tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37012762549912987942024-03-05T13:57:12.490-08:00J.S. WilsoncroftJamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-46159514260594283132013-06-23T17:04:00.000-07:002013-06-23T17:04:01.821-07:00Do you believe in ghosts?In this day and age, paranormal is a HOT subject. Whether it's a television show, movie or a book, people can't get enough ghost stories. Many people are skeptic about ghosts, wondering if it really is real or just a figment of our imagination, but many people are true believers, especially those who have come in contact with them or experience something unexplainable. We all wondered if that knocking sound we heard in the middle of the night was a ghost trying to communicate or just a tree branch tapping against the house. Or the black shadow you saw out of the corner of your eye was just you seeing things or was it really something paranormal. Or maybe when you walk into a room and every hair on the back of your neck stands up. Is this your body's way of telling you something's not right? Hmmmm....<br />
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I, myself am a true believer with being a ghost hunter and all. I have had many extraordinary experiences and a few frightening ones as well. So writing a book about ghosts was right up my alley. I loved every minute of writing my new paranormal story, My Haunting Love. This book is also my first young adult story, so there are no smutty stuff going on. Dang!! hehehe But....I will tell you this little juicy tidbit. The picture on the back of this new book is an actual ghost. TRUE...I took the picture myself while ghost hunting one evening and let me say this, when the black shadow appeared on my camera, I nearly pissed myself. So without further ado...I give you My Haunting Love. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5kOB8lbYyJQ1R1KMyeMaOWHmh8IDX9p-hT4jS2uAPSYF2P4vtTJw2BvVRMskdeODCZq-3XpWJTmjDtY5DaRA1WzXUbHZPe5xJCZfiWNY5V3SvDoB88iOEULnAE9OTYebbOqrDI632uDI/s1600/MHL+bookcover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5kOB8lbYyJQ1R1KMyeMaOWHmh8IDX9p-hT4jS2uAPSYF2P4vtTJw2BvVRMskdeODCZq-3XpWJTmjDtY5DaRA1WzXUbHZPe5xJCZfiWNY5V3SvDoB88iOEULnAE9OTYebbOqrDI632uDI/s320/MHL+bookcover.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Look out Edward Cullen, there is a new boy in town and his name is John Lansberry!!!</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Haunting-Love-ebook/dp/B00D3J2VLQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370641365&sr=8-1&keywords=my+haunting+love">http://www.amazon.com/My-Haunting-Love-ebook/dp/B00D3J2VLQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370641365&sr=8-1&keywords=my+haunting+love</a></div>
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My Haunting Love is also available on Barnes and Noble and worldwide.</div>
Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-44186648509952298552013-03-04T05:59:00.001-08:002013-03-04T06:00:24.423-08:00The Very Inspiring Blogger AwardI have been nominated by the wonderful Fiona Wilson for The Very Inspiring Blogger Award. You can read her posts here: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fnannyfi71.wordpress.com%2F&h=qAQHMHdp2">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fnannyfi71.wordpress.com%2F&h=qAQHMHdp2</a><br />
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Thank you Fiona. :) <br />
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Here are the rules of the Very Inspiring Blogger Award:<br />
1. Display the award logo on your blog<br />
2. Link back to the person who nominated you<br />
3. State 7 things about yourself<br />
4. Nominate 15 other bloggers for this award and link to them<br />
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So, here are 7 things about me:<br />
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1) I twist my hair when I am nervous, bored and just need to do something with my fingers. hehehe<br />
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2) I love sea food. I see food, I eat it. :) <br />
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3) I love all dogs, but my favorite is a Great Dane. Someday...before I die, I hope to own one. <br />
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4) A lot of people don't know I was born with a hearing disability. I wear two hearing aids, but sometimes take one out when I don't want to hear bull****. :) <br />
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5) I am a ghost hunter. <br />
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6) My favorite kind of music is the 80's, but I also enjoy listening to fifties music. Blame my parents on that one. LOL<br />
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7) My favorite song at the moment is.......Call Me Maybe It's catchy. A great song to dance my fat ass too. bahahaha<br />
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I nominate....<br />
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Rebecca Boucher----http://www.beccab8.blogspot.com/<br />
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Mandy Anderson---http://twimom101bookblog.blogspot.com/<br />
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Jane Anne Linsdell---http://lindsayandjaneviewsandreviews.blogspot.com/<br />
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Turning Pages---http://turningthepagesbooks.blogspot.com/<br />
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Princess Reviews---http://www.5678princessreviews.blogspot.com/<br />
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Azum Twi-Imprinted---http://imaginati0nstation.blogspot.com/<br />
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Liz Kingsbury McKeown---http://wewanttowriteabookforyou.blogspot.com/2013/02/my-life-as-writer.html<br />
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Nic Leah Lautner---http://taylorlautnerforever.tumblr.com/<br />
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Tiffany Carmouche---http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.tiffanycarmouche.com%2F%23!news%2Fc1x9v&h=yAQHxidm6<br />
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Toni Grace Sinns---http://lilgracielou.blogspot.com/<br />
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Nicole Kuhn---http://nkuhnebooks.blogspot.com/p/weekend-prizes.html<br />
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<br />Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-25176011532989530292013-02-18T07:24:00.000-08:002013-02-18T07:24:19.601-08:00Scratch-n-Sniff...it's just not a sticker anymore..Randee Stevens is new to the erotica world. Her first sexy story came to her while lying in bed with her hubby one night. They were watching television and a commercial came on. It was one of those commercial where the guy is sniffing the carpet. *shaking head* I mean really who sits around sniffing carpets all day? Maybe your clothes or your armpits to see if they stink but carpet? Really? So anyways, she turns to her hubby and says "That would make a great title for a story." And so story ideas started popping in her head and soon Scratch-n-Sniff was born. and NO...its not about sniffing carpets. hehehe <br />
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Scratch-n-Sniff is basically a short sexy story with a bit of humor to it. Yes, there is sex, there is language and yes, there is self gratification. Isn't that what erotica is? hehehe <br />
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So if you are looking for a funny and sexy story, check out Randee's Scratch-n-Sniff. Give this author some love and spread the word for her. And here is the best part...it's only .99<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGitCVs2Hl9nS0aSVTLhvrOi3mNgcSNc3bBv2HDIQVg4k9WqR82eIQYYWjPERzY8IJsvV7VUYxROc3iZGR2quWOsckDAUwWJ3kG9dmgvbqx8Tmy7OAv8wN-GcHDScd9TKwk9F6lnWNSQH1/s1600/cover+for+SnS.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGitCVs2Hl9nS0aSVTLhvrOi3mNgcSNc3bBv2HDIQVg4k9WqR82eIQYYWjPERzY8IJsvV7VUYxROc3iZGR2quWOsckDAUwWJ3kG9dmgvbqx8Tmy7OAv8wN-GcHDScd9TKwk9F6lnWNSQH1/s320/cover+for+SnS.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AFNO1CK/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_hSxfrb11TYYTT">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AFNO1CK/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_hSxfrb11TYYTT</a><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh. My. God!” She choked with laughter. It usually took
a lot to make her blush, but she could feel her cheeks burning as she stared at
Tony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You must be smoking the wacky weed or something because
you are crazy… and disgusting.” She added, stifling her laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Nah. I don’t touch that stuff. I’m straight as an arrow.
I just don’t always shoot straight.” He joked. He knew that sounded corny, but
the more he talked and stared at her breasts, the more his brain turned to mush
and his cock took over. He could feel it pushing hard against his jeans as he
looked down, hoping it wasn’t saluting her. <i>Shit! It was. </i>He glanced
back up at Tasha and noticed she was staring at it too. <i>Damn it!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">A huge smile grew on her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I can see your other little arrow is ready to shoot
too.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He quickly turned around and walked back behind the
counter. Tasha giggled. She loved making men blush…and squirm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-68604986808244466972013-02-16T18:35:00.000-08:002013-02-16T18:35:15.261-08:00Weird dreams.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnU7QYhlV5uLLs3wk_JfRBQ_ZKensDdGf3ADPWWCpSMZvlxZWX5HNUj0ZTQTgvv0nxX7fdfcvU77lgDdeyOzTPUPd-fJzWYYH8u2xX3tZxpsuht6eaY0dTjeQryeCFWSnKomakmmOp7TGB/s1600/elaine.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnU7QYhlV5uLLs3wk_JfRBQ_ZKensDdGf3ADPWWCpSMZvlxZWX5HNUj0ZTQTgvv0nxX7fdfcvU77lgDdeyOzTPUPd-fJzWYYH8u2xX3tZxpsuht6eaY0dTjeQryeCFWSnKomakmmOp7TGB/s1600/elaine.png" /></a></div>
Did you ever take a nap and woke up with the most vivid story idea in your head? Yeah, well..one..I rarely ever take naps and two...it happened to me tonight, although it wasn't a story, it was a poem. Which is weird because I totally suck balls when it comes to writing poems. All the rhyming and smyming...blah blah blah. Well this evening I woke up thinking about a woman name Stella, not sure if I was thinking about Elaine from Seinfeld or not. LOL Here is the poem....<br />
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 36pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Aharoni; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span></span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">OH STELLA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Oh Stella, with
your hair so brown<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">And your lips so
red.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Roaming the city
streets,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Looking for
someone to bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Oh Stella, with
your shoulders so broad<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">And hips so wide,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Keep turning
those tricks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">You’ll never be a
bride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Oh Stella, with
your dirty broken nails<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">And grungy
wedding dress<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Keep lying and
cheating <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Your life will
always be a mess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Oh Stella, your
fairy-tail dreams are shattered<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Your heart is
broken in pieces<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Walking those
lonely streets<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">With just you and
your Maltese.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Go figure!! I'm a poet and don't know it. bahahaha </span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Have a great weekend everyone!!!</span></div>
Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-12669918288847566202013-02-05T17:54:00.002-08:002013-02-05T17:54:51.295-08:00LOVE....WHAT DOES IT MEAN???Valentine's Day is just around the corner and Love is in the Air......ppbbft!!! Love should be in the air 365 days a year......ppbbft!!! No, I'm not a sour puss, I'm just realistic. Sure I think the world would be a better place if we all lived in peace and harmony. You know from the Sixties era, "MAKE LOVE NOT WAR" But unfortunately we don't live in those days anymore. <br />
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Here is my thoughts on Love.....<br />
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LOVE IS GRAND, LOVE IS WONDERFUL<br />
LOVE IS WORK, LOVE IS A PAIN IN THE ASS.<br />
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Love is everything we want it to be and everything we don't want it to be.<br />
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LOVE IS KIND, LOVE IS MEAN<br />
LOVE IS BLIND, LOVE IS DEAF<br />
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Love comes in all sizes, shape and form, love can fit in the palm of our hands. <br />
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LOVE IS BOLD, LOVE IS DULL<br />
LOVE IS SWEET, LOVE IS OLD<br />
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Sometimes we take the one we love for granted, that is life. But in the end....<br />
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LOVE IS FOREVER<br />
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Need to find love this Valentine's Day? Need a romance story to put you in a romantic mood?<br />
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<br />Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-77989528779982675922013-01-08T16:13:00.002-08:002013-01-08T16:14:36.276-08:00Tina Carreiro----Next Big Thing Blog HopI virtually met Tina Carreiro over a year ago through Facebook. It wasn't until recently that her and I became friends, whom she was happy to lend an ear so I could rant and rave over a few personal things. (Thank you) Not only is Tina a good friend, whom I can talk to and trust for her honest oppinion, she is a spectular writer. Her vampire/romance story Power of the Moon is proof of that. I recently asked Tina some questions and here they are. :)<br />
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1)When did you decide to become a writer? I’ve always been a writer, crafting stories as far back as I can remember and sharing them with family and friends. When I decided to put myself out in the public eye is a different story. When I finished Power of the Moon, my husband read the draft. He loved it. His reaction alone instilled enough confidence in me to move forward into the publishing world.<br />
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2) Who is your number one fan? My kids. Although, they aren’t allowed to read my books until their early twenties… they cheer the loudest everywhere we go. <br />
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3) What is the hardest thing about writing a book? I may be alone on this, but I don’t find writing hard. I love it. It flows from me in natural waves of creativity. Editing sucks though. <br />
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4)What or who inspires you to keep writing? I love my readers and they inspire me to keep writing. I receive emails, Facebook post… etc. from them and it makes my fingers twitch to move faster. Their enthusiasm for my books, their love for my characters is something I’ll always cherish. <br />
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5) Tell us one thing about yourself that very few people know? I love to put peanut butter in my vanilla ice cream. Shhh… it’s my dirty little secret.<br />
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AMAZON <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FPower-Moon-ebook%2Fdp%2FB009R4XVUQ%2Fref%3Dsr_1_1_title_1_kin%3Fs%3Dbooks%26ie%3DUTF8%26qid%3D1350425985%26sr%3D1-1%26keywords%3Dpower%2Bof%2Bthe%2Bmoon&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FPower-Moon-ebook%2Fdp%2FB009R4XVUQ%2Fref%3Dsr_1_1_title_1_kin%3Fs%3Dbooks%26ie%3DUTF8%26qid%3D1350425985%26sr%3D1-1%26keywords%3Dpower%2Bof%2Bthe%2Bmoon&h=_AQG9UV</a>__<br />
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B&N <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.barnesandnoble.com%2Fw%2Fpower-of-the-moon-tina-carreiro%2F1104369134%3Fean%3D2940015515633&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.barnesandnoble.com%2Fw%2Fpower-of-the-moon-tina-carreiro%2F1104369134%3Fean%3D2940015515633&h=_AQG9UV</a>__<br />
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ALL ROMANCE <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.allromanceebooks.com%2Fproduct-powerofthemoon-1028479-139.html&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.allromanceebooks.com%2Fproduct-powerofthemoon-1028479-139.html&h=_AQG9UV</a>__<br />
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BLOG <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinacarreiro.blogspot.com%2F&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinacarreiro.blogspot.com%2F&h=_AQG9UV</a>__ <br />
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WEBSITE <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinacarreiro.com%2F&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinacarreiro.com%2F&h=_AQG9UV</a>__ <br />
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FACEBOOK <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tina-Carreiro/113900751973213">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tina-Carreiro/113900751973213</a><br />
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GOODREADS <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F12049774-power-of-the-moon&h=_AQG9UV">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F12049774-power-of-the-moon&h=_AQG9UV</a>__ <br />
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<br />Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-62526175569897078242013-01-04T16:29:00.000-08:002013-01-04T16:29:09.350-08:00The Next Big Thing Blog HopBare with me...this is my first blog hop and I hope I get this right. LOL The lovely and very talented Tiffany Carmouche ask me if I would like to join and since it's the new year and I did promise myself to try new things, so I said "Okay." Here it is.....<br />
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Tiffany Carmouche' is a romance writer and inspirational speaker shares the first novel in her upcoming Triology, The Imposter. She shares her love for music, reviews and much, much more.<br />
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When Tiffany Carmouché is not writing romance novels, you can find her sculpting, traveling, teaching, singing, dancing, escaping in music or enjoying her family.<br />From skydiving in Alaska to scuba diving in Hawaii, Carmouché has traveled the world seeking adventure. These include riding camels in Africa, swimming under the stars in Puerto Rico, dancing salsa in Ecuador, and walking the cobblestone roads of Assisi, Italy. She has also found fulfillment working with the disabled and orphans in Argentina and Mexico. Her most cherished moments, however, have been watching her two beautiful daughters grow and strive to accomplish their own dreams.<br /><br />Despite all of these amazing experiences, she has survived many struggles. There was a time she felt defeated, but now she is recommitted to savoring experiences both in the novels she writes and in the life she lives each day. Her secret hope is that anyone who is struggling will realize there is a light at the end of the tunnel and no matter how hard the fight, no matter how many times they have been knocked down, it is always worth staggering up to their feet and learning to breathe again.<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.tiffanycarmouche.com%2F%23!news%2Fc1x9v&h=oAQHvtltK">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.tiffanycarmouche.com%2F%23!news%2Fc1x9v&h=oAQHvtltK</a> Website<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/TiffanyCarmoucheAuthor?ref=hlFacebook">http://www.facebook.com/TiffanyCarmoucheAuthor?ref=hlFacebook</a> Facebook<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2Fcabmnc9&h=oAQHvtltK">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2Fcabmnc9&h=oAQHvtltK</a> ebook on Amazon<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2Fdyooebc&h=oAQHvtltK">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftinyurl.com%2Fdyooebc&h=oAQHvtltK</a> ebook on Barnes and Noble<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F15747559-the-impostor-a-love-story&h=oAQHvtltK">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fbook%2Fshow%2F15747559-the-impostor-a-love-story&h=oAQHvtltK</a> Goodreads<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Obsession-Sacrifice-Love-Story-by-Tiffany-Carmouche/510398818990960?ref=hl">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Obsession-Sacrifice-Love-Story-by-Tiffany-Carmouche/510398818990960?ref=hl</a> Obsession Fan Page<br />
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Also Tagged for this Blog Hop<br />
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Dawn Jayne <a href="http://www.dawnjayne.com/">http://www.dawnjayne.com/</a><br />
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Tina Carriero <a href="http://bit.ly/aBa134">http://bit.ly/aBa134</a><br />
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Theresa Oliver <a href="https://www.facebook.com/theresa.oliver.author">https://www.facebook.com/theresa.oliver.author</a><br />
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Michelle Anderson Picarella <a href="http://www.facebook.com/picarellawrites">http://www.facebook.com/picarellawrites</a><br />
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Theresa Renee Stoddard <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/T-R-Stoddard/227300200644434">http://www.facebook.com/pages/T-R-Stoddard/227300200644434</a><br />
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Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-70985814555840054842012-12-18T10:35:00.001-08:002012-12-18T10:35:23.861-08:00Remembering ZaneIt was November of last year, while grooming a dog that I had a vision of a woman walking into a funeral home. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and the smell of an eucalyptus plant wafted around her. She was heartbroken and on the verge of collasping when she heard someone call her name. This vision kept playing over and over again in my mind until that evening while making dinner I finally sat down at my laptop and started typing. A week in a half later, Remembering Zane was born. <br />
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First, it was only published as an ebook/short story, but then my lovely publisher talked me into adding a few more chapters and soon it was also available in paperback. Writing Remembering Zane tugged at my heart a few times to the point of tears that I had to walk away and take a break. I'm proud of this story and hope someday to see it as a movie. Wouldn't that be freaking awesome!? :) <br />
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So, for those of you, who haven't read Remembering Zane, I'm posting my first chapter. If it tugs at your heart too and you want to read more, you can find it on Amazon and Barnes and Noble and Smashword for a steal of just .99 Paperbacks 9.95<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>REMEMBERING ZANE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Chapter 1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">As soon as Bonnie
Reese opened up the double glass doors she could smell the eucalyptus plant.
She knew the sweet scent all too well. It was Zane’s favorite. Over the years,
it had grown to be her favorite scent, too. And now…standing here in the foyer….smelling
it’s sweet aroma…it became overwhelming. The reality was finally setting in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hello ma’am.” An
older gentleman said, as he greeted her at the door. He held out his arm,
waiting for her to hand over her coat. She smiled weakly at him as slowly
pulled her arms through the sleeves of her black wool coat then handed it to
him. She didn’t know why she wore the heavy jacket. It had been unseasonably
warm for that October, too warm to be wearing it, but then again, it was the
only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">black</i> jacket she owned. Plus,
she hasn’t been able to shake the chills since the day she got the devastating
news about Zane. That was a week ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Tears started to
form when she remembered the day she got the call. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie, did you
hear?” Her friend Jackie asked immediately as soon as she answered the phone.
Jackie had been one of her closest friends since elementary school and one of
the few friends that she still kept in contact with. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hear what?” Bonnie
asked, as she scrambled to set the last bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Zane Withers, he’s
been in a car accident.” Bonnie could hear the sorrow in Jackie’s voice.
Immediately, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Wha… what? What
did you say?” Visions of Zane quickly filled her mind. She could see his dark
crew cut hair, his chestnut brown eyes and his warm smile. He had the kind of
smile that would light up any dark room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“He’s okay, right?”
She choked, blinking away her tears. She remembered the silence on the other
end of the line. That’s when her knees buckled from under her and she collapsed
to the floor, sobbing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I’m sorry, Bonnie.
He’s dead.” Jackie said sympathetically. She spoke so low, that Bonnie barely
heard her. She could feel her mind and body float away as she lay sobbing on
the kitchen floor. She didn’t remember hanging up the phone or saying goodbye to
Jackie that day. She didn’t remember much of anything that afternoon except
that it was cold and raining and the only man that she truly ever loved….was
dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie!” A male
voice hollered her name. She turned around to see Jonathan Wood, one of her old
classmates, walking towards her. Jonathan was Zane’s best friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hi Jonathan,” she
gave him a weak smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You look lovely.”
He said, smiling. She looked down at her navy blue pant suit and smiled shyly.
She wished she would have worn a black dress, but all the other dresses that
she owned were too bright and colorful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Thanks.” She said,
bleakly. Jonathan was dressed in a black suit with a light blue carnation pinned
to his breast. She choked when she saw the blue flower. Blue was Zane’s
favorite color. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She took in a deep
jagged breath and glanced over Jonathan’s shoulder, down the hall. The funeral
home was packed with many of Zane’s friends and family. Some of the faces she
recognized, but a lot of them she didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“How are you
holding up?” Jonathan asked, taking her arm in his as they walked towards the
crowd. The air felt heavy as she concentrated on her breathing. Each step she
took, her knees became weak and began to shake. She feared that they were going
to buckle from underneath her. She wasn’t sure if she could do this. It had
been a year since she had last seen Zane. Although, she remembered it like it
was yesterday. She was shopping at the mall when she had bumped into him. It
was awkward seeing him with his wife and young son, awkward and devastating for
her that is. She should have been his wife and the little boy, should have been
her son. She cried for two weeks when she saw how happy he was with his new
family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Bonnie met Zane
Withers when they were in the fourth grade. At ten years old, she didn’t really
understand the concept of love, but she knew that the feelings she had for him
were never going to go away. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ever.</i> It
wasn’t until they were both in eleventh grade, that he finally took an interest
in her. The day that he came and stood by her locker and asked her if she
wanted to go to the movies was forever tattooed to her brain. She could still
smell his sweet aftershave as they sat next to each other watching their movie
together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so for the next ten years they were inseparable.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie! You came!”
Through her murky eyes, she looked up to see another one of her classmates,
Cindy walking towards her. She struggled to put a smile on her face as the
tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. Jonathan sensed her uneasiness and
wrapped her arm tighter around his. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yes. I’m
here…here.” She choked. Cindy grabbed a handful of tissues that were sitting on
a stand beside them and handed them to her. That was one useful thing about
funeral homes they were always well stocked with tissues and set at the most
convenient places. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She sighed and
thanked Cindy for the tissues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Follow me if you
want to see him. The line back there is a mile long.” She informed them with a
smile on her face and speaking as if they were getting in line for a rock
concert or something. There was no grief or sorrow in her voice, whatsoever.
Bonnie nodded her head as her and Jonathan followed Cindy down the hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Jonathan leaned
over and whispered in her ear, “If you aren’t ready yet we can wait.” She leaned
her head on his shoulder and thanked him for being so understanding. All these
years, Jonathan had always been so nice to her, saying the sweetest things and
always complimenting her, more so than Zane ever did. She could never
understand why he didn’t settle down and gotten married like (gulp) Zane did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I don’t want to keep
you from waiting.” She breathed, using the tissues to wipe away the fresh tears.
He smiled shyly at her and squeezed her hand. “I was already in there, earlier,
with his wife and family.” She could see the guilt in his dark blue eyes as he
bowed his head down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh!” Her lips
formed a perfect ‘O’ when she spoke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Her heart was
pounding through her chest as they continued to inch their way closer to the room
where Zane laid. She smiled weakly at the unfamiliar faces that walked past
her. Some of them were somber, while others were sobbing uncontrollably. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Her mind raced. All
she knew was that he was in a car accident. She had so many questions. Questions
she wondered if Jonathan knew<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. Was it a
closed casket? Was she ever going to see his beautiful face again?</i> Maybe
she didn’t want to remember him like this…lying in a casket….dead. Jonathan
looked down at her as if he read her mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You look troubled.
Is there something wrong?” He whispered in her ear. She looked down at the
front of her suit and nervously began to rub at the invisible wrinkles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Ho…how does he
look?” She stammered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh, he looks good,
considering….” He stopped when he saw her green eyes grow wide with shock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Considering what?”
She choked. He glanced around the crowded room, making sure that no one was
listening in on their conversation. They all seemed to be in their own little
world, chatting among each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Well….he was
partially ejected from his vehicle.” He spoke low. Her breath caught in her
throat as she started to choke on her tears. She cupped her hands over her
mouth to keep from shrieking, but it was too late. Tears started to stream down
her cheeks as she went into a full blown crying fit. All she could envision was
her beloved Zane bleeding and hanging out of the shattered windshield.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh, my God!”</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> She sobbed as she collapsed in Jonathan’s arms. Some of the people turned
and were staring at the two of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Come on. You’re
not ready to see him yet.” Jonathan said. He wrapped his arms around her waist
and walked her through the glass doors then down the steps and outside to the
other end of the funeral home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“What exactly happened
to him?” She asked as she continued to sob. She was grateful that Jonathan
brought her outside. The cool breeze felt good against her clammy skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Sit down.” Jonathan
ordered as he pointed at one of the white wicker chair that was in the corner
of the porch. She quietly obliged. He took out a pack of gum from his pocket
and offered her a piece, but she declined. She watched him carefully as he popped
it in his mouth and began chewing vigorously. She could see that he, too, was
having a hard time dealing with the loss of his best friend. She sat quietly,
waiting for him to speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“It was cold and
raining that day he was coming home from a football game. From what I was told,
he swerved to miss a deer then his car skidded across the wet slippery leaves
until he hit a tree head on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Bonnie felt as if
someone had punched her in the stomach and knocked the breath out of her. She
wrapped her arms around her stomach and slowly began rocking back and forth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“The ambulance crew
said he was still alive when they got there.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She bit her bottom
lip to keep from shrieking as she continued to listen to Jonathan. Then he
turned around to stare out at the road in front of the funeral home. Bonnie
could see the pain in his face and that he was hurting. He was having a hard
time talking about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“What? What else
happened?” Her voice quivered as she stood up from the chair and walked over to
him. He sucked in a deep breath and grabbed ahold of the railing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“The ambulance crew
said he was talking and asking for his wife.” He continued. A small tear
trickled down his cheek. Seeing Jonathan cry made her heart ache. She had never
seen him cry before. She reached over and wrapped her arm around his shoulder,
comforting him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“That’s
understandable.” She said soothingly. Jonathan turned around to face her and
shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. He wasn’t asking for Leanne…he was
asking for you. He kept repeating your name over and over again…Bonnie.” Her
breath and heart stopped at the same time, as she tried to grasp what he had
just said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Whaaa….what?” She
stumbled backward and fell into the chair, sobbing uncontrollably. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh Bonnie, I’m so
sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” He cried, pounding his fists on the
side of his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Dammit! Dammit it
all to hell!” He screamed as he kneeled down in front of her. He grabbed her
ice cold hands, “Bonnie, I’m sorry.” He pleaded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Bonnie wanted to
stand up and hold Jonathan in her arms and tell him that it was okay…but she
was numb. She felt like she was having an out of body experience. She could see
Jonathan kneeling before her and apologizing, but she couldn’t move. All she
could picture in her mind and hear was Zane’s bloody body calling her name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hey Jon! Are you
alright man?” They both turned around to see Derrick, another classmate and a
good friend of Zane, standing before them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Jonathan quickly
stood up and wiped the tears from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Yeah
man, I’m good.” He choked. Derrick gave him a peculiar look then turned to look
at Bonnie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hello Bonnie, nice
to see you again.” He said, reaching his hand out for her to shake. She numbly
raised her hand. But was startled when Derrick quickly grabbed her hand and
pulled her out of the chair to give her a hug. The surprise hug brought her out
of her trance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I’m so sorry for
your loss, Bonnie.” Derrick whispered in her ear, causing fresh tears to
emerge. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, it was my loss too. The man
I was supposed to marry, the man I was to have children with. The man I was
supposed to grow old with until we both died of old age. </i>Her heart ached
for Zane’s wife and their young son, but her heart ached for herself, too. She
loved Zane, more than herself and she always would. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“They are closing
pretty soon. Do you want to see him one more time before you leave?” Derrick
asked. He had no idea that she hadn’t been in there to see him yet. She nodded
quietly then motioned for Jonathan to walk her in. Derrick held the side door
open as they both walked back into the funeral home. The place was quieter now.
There were only a few people left standing in the hallway. She grabbed ahold of
Jonathan’s hands and squeeze tightly hoping it would stop hers from shaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Hand in hand, they
slowly walked down the red carpeted hall, towards the small gathering of
people. Right away, Bonnie recognized Zane’s parents. Her heart ached for them.
She could see the grief in their tired old eyes as she walked towards them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She shuddered when
she caught a whiff of the eucalyptus plant as they walked up to the room where
Zane laid. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie! It’s so
nice of you to come.” Zane’s mother, Jean said. She wrapped her frail arms
around Bonnie’s shoulders and hugged her tightly. “I was afraid that you weren’t
going to make it. My Zane would have been disappointed if you hadn’t shown up.”
Her soft voice quivered when she said his name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh Jean, how could
I not come.” She started to sob, but quickly sucked in a deep breath to keep
the new tears from surfacing. She felt Jonathan’s hand on her shoulder as Jean
continued to hug her. After a long moment Jean finally pulled back to look at
her. “Oh, you look so beautiful.” Jean smiled weakly then gently patted her
cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Jean was a tall
thin woman with grey hair and a button nose. Her thick glasses made her blue
eyes more prominent. She smiled at Jean one more time before turning to Blaine,
Zane’s father, who was standing next to her. Zane was a spitting image of his
father; tall with short dark hair, except his had more grey. The two of them
even had the same brown mole just below their left eye. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“So glad you could
make it.” Blaine said in a deep voice that sounded just like Zane’s. Without
saying a word, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
It took everything she had to keep from breaking down in front of him. She knew
this was hard enough on them losing their oldest son that they didn’t need to
see her losing control and sobbing like a baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Are you ready?”
She heard Jonathan ask as he tapped her on the shoulders. She turned around and
watched him hug Jean then turned and shook hands with Blaine one more time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She blew out a
jagged sigh and nodded her head as they proceeded into the large circular room.
She gasped at the sight. There were flowers everywhere, stacked from floor to
ceiling. Most of them were vibrant colors of fall; orange, yellow and brown, all
but one. There was one green plant sitting on the floor next to the casket. It
was the eucalyptus plant that she had sent. She took in a deep breath and
inhaled its sweet aroma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Jonathan wrapped
his arm around her shoulder as they proceeded towards the casket. She kept her
eyes peeled to the floor, away from the casket. She was still afraid to look.
She was afraid of how she was going to react once she saw Zane lying in the
casket, lifeless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie!” A female
voice called. She turned around to see who it was that had spoken her name and
gasped when she recognized the woman’s face. It was Leanne, Zane’s wife. Her
heart began to pound against her chest as she stared at the young woman as she
walked towards her. A pang of jealousy hit her when she saw how beautiful Leanne
was with her long wavy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and perfect petite body.
There was no comparison between the two of them. Bonnie was the complete
opposite to her, with her short bleached blonde hair, bright green eyes and
short stocky body. The longer Bonnie stared at the young widow her jealousy
slowly started to fade. She felt remorse and….embarrassed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Did she know that Zane was calling her name out instead of his own
wife’s?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Without saying
another word, Leanne smiled then gently grabbed her arm and walked her to the
casket. Bonnie could barely breathe. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
was she doing? Doesn’t she realize how hard this is for me? I can’t just walk
up to him….like…like this.</i> She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and
stared at her with wide eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Zane, look who
came to see you,” She spoke lovingly to him as if he were still alive. Bonnie
kept her eyes glued on the gold handles in front of the casket as tears started
to trickle down her cheeks. She listened to Leanne talk to him. “Zane, honey,
Bonnie came to see you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Leanne turned and
smiled at Bonnie, then patted her hands and walked away, leaving her all alone
beside him. Her body began to shake as she stared at the dark cherry casket and
its gold handles. She could see that the casket was lined with white satin as
she slowly moved her eyes all around except for the one place that she dreaded.
Near the foot of the casket was a small bouquet of black and gold flowers with
a small banner reading #1 fan. She chuckled quietly to herself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, he was a huge Steeler fan.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She quickly shot
her attention upward to the huge bouquet of flowers that were resting on top of
the open casket. It was a huge casket cover of fall flowers. In the center of
it was a yellow banner that read “Son/husband/father”. She shuddered then blew
out another jagged sigh as she slowly moved her eyes downwards. She brought her
fists to her mouth to muffle the small shriek that had escaped her lips. It was
him! It was Zane! He truly was dead! She watched her hands shake as she reached
out to touch him. His face was as white as the satin lining in his casket, his
short dark hair was speckled with grey, but it was him, the same man she had
loved since the fourth grade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*******<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She didn’t remember
the drive home, only walking through the front door of her small apartment and tossing
her black wool coat over the couch. She was still having one of those out of
body experiences, except all she could see was Zane lying in his coffin. He was
wearing his beloved Pittsburgh Steeler jersey that was autographed by Jerome
Bettis and Hines Ward. She remembered that day at the football stadium. They
were both nineteen and full of love and life. Jonathan was with them too. The
three of them had driven to Pittsburgh to watch the first home game of the
season. They were playing against the Baltimore Ravens and the game ended with
the Steelers winning 17 to 7. They had waited 2 hours after the game to get
autographs. She remembered Zane’s dark eyes lit up when Hines Ward signed his
jersey. He was like a little kid on Christmas morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The shrill of the
phone brought her back to reality as she pulled herself off the couch to grab
the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie, it’s me
Jon. Are you okay? I was worried about you and wanted to make sure that you got
home okay.” A small smile formed on her lips when she heard Jonathan’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yeah, I’m
home….but…I’m not okay. I feel emotionally drained, you know?” She sighed
heavily as she leaned back down on the couch. Her eyes felt puffy and swollen.
She could feel a headache coming on from all the crying she had done tonight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yeah, I know what
you mean. I wanted to tell you that if you ever need someone to talk to, you
know you can call me right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Thank you Jonathan.
I really appreciate that.” She grabbed the black wool coat that was lying on
the arm of the couch and draped it over herself to keep warm. The cold chills
were coming back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie, you can
call me Jon. No one has called Jonathan since high school.” He chuckled
lightly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh, okay. Old
habits die hard.” She chuckled weakly. “I guess it has been a few years, huh?”
She still had trouble swallowing the idea that they have been out of high school
for fifteen years. It seemed just like yesterday that her, Zane and Jonathan
were cruising around town in Jonathan’s little blue Ford Escort. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God! Where did the time go?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">For a moment, there
was silence on the phone. Just as Bonnie was about to say something, Jon
finally spoke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bonnie, I was
wondering…wo…would you like to go out for dinner this weekend?” He stammered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The corner of her
mouth curled up as she felt flattered that Jonathan, er’ Jon, wanted to take
her out to dinner. She was just as about to open her mouth and say yes, but she
then stopped. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What about Zane? Would he
mind her going out on a date with his best friend? </i>Tears started to cloud
her vision as she sat up on the couch and stared at the blank television.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Uh…Jonath...Jon, I
really appreciate you wanting to take me out for dinner, but I really wouldn’t
be much company right now.” She sighed heavily as she glanced around her small
living room. It felt empty and lonely….like her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Nonsense…we can
talk about old times…in honor of Zane. What do ya say?” He tried to sound
enthusiastic, but deep down he was nervous as hell. He never told a soul that
he had loved Bonnie since the 7<sup>th</sup> grade. Since the day of the spring
dance when she walked into the gymnasium wearing a mint green dress. He
remembered how beautiful her hair looked, all curly, framing her chubby cheeks
and just enough makeup to bring out her bright green eyes and pink full lips.
He wanted to tell her that day that she was beautiful and ask her to dance with
him, but couldn’t, not when she was in the arms of his best friend Zane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Since you put it
that way, I guess we could have dinner…in honor of Zane.” She chuckled weakly.
Just thinking about him made her heart ache. She glanced at the clock on the
wall. By this time tomorrow he would be buried six feet into the ground and
covered with dirt. She took in a jagged breath and could feel another crying
fit coming on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I gotta go. I will
call you tomorrow.” She told Jon then quickly hung up. She spent the remainder
of the evening curled up on the couch, crying over the love she had lost
forever.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008D6Q4WG/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_jWaSqb0EZGC1G">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008D6Q4WG/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_jWaSqb0EZGC1G</a></o:p></span></div>
Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-45691939384828315032012-12-03T19:10:00.000-08:002012-12-03T19:10:33.933-08:00A Christmas WishThis December 21st will mark the 5th anniversary of the passing of my beloved mother, Joyce. It still seems surreal that it's been five years since the day she went home to the Lord. My family and I knew she was sick and we mentally told ourselves that her days were numbered, but on that Friday morning, we just weren't prepared. Nobody is ever prepared to say goodbye to their loved ones, especially around the holidays. I remembered being angry with God for taking my mother when he did, but at the same time I knew she was ready. Her body was just too tired to hang on any longer.<br />
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Every once in awhile I replay that fateful morning in my mind, wishing that I would have done things differently. If I would have known she going to pass that morning I would have stayed all night and held her hand or told her a story about her grandchildren while she slept peacefully, but I didn't, because I truly didn't think my mother would ever leave me. <br />
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They say time heals all wounds, but I don't believe that. Losing my mother left a permanent scar on my heart. I will always ache for her touch, her hugs, even her laugh. Joyce, was my mother, my friend, my mentor, even my bingo partner. I have gone to bingo a few times since she passed, but it's not the same. I miss listening to her swear everytime someone called bingo before her and smacking our dobbers together for good luck. My mother was a one-of-a-kind. She definetely made a mark in everyone's heart that knew her, she was that special. <br />
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I often wished I had one more chance to see my mother, to hug and hold her again, although I would never wish for her to feel the pain that she endured for so many years. I know in my heart she is in a better place now, pain free, and watching over me and my family. She is my guardian angel. But if I were to have one Christmas wish, it's to see her again, to hear her laughter, to hold her hand, even if it's in my dreams. Just to hear her laugh would be music to my ears.<br />
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Merry Christmas Mom!! I will always love and miss you! <br />
<br />
Jamie<br />
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<em>No matter how old we are or how independent we become, we will always need our mothers.</em> <br />
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Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-39666892700637490572012-09-18T08:26:00.000-07:002012-09-18T08:26:33.528-07:00$60,000 SHIT HOUSEGrowing up, we were like most other families, we had pets; dogs, cats, rabbits and fish. Once I even begged my parents to let me have a ferret, but that didn't go over too well. There was always a dog running around in our house either shitting, pissing or vomiting. That's when my father got pissed one day and yelled, "Good God, we live in a $60,000 shit house!" We all stopped and looked at my father then busted out laughing. So from that day forward, whenever someone asked any of us where we lived. "Oh, we live in the $60,000 shit house on Anderson Avenue." People would look at us like we were on drugs or something. It was our own family joke. <br />
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But of course, my mother, God Bless her soul, did a wonderful job of cleaning up after these animals, in spite of her arthiritis. She would scrub and scrub the carpets until there was no color or fiber left on the dang floor. <br />
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I remember one Easter Sunday, I was about nine years old. I walked downstairs to see what surprise the Easter bunny left for me. I remember the strange smell when I walked into the kitchen. It was a scent that I never had smelled before. I searched around the kitchen, sniffing my nose, trying to find the source of it. I walked towards the laundry room which was adjacent to the kitchen and there was the Easter surprise. My dog, Daisy had a litter of puppies. Eight puppies to be exact. I remember screaming for Mom to come downstairs and when she came and stood beside me, she about shit a brick. No one knew that she was pregnant. Of course I was just a kid back then and never paid much attention to the dog's growing belly, but how could my mother and my father not know that their dog was pregnant? I mean, come on now. <br />
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Anyways...later that day, I walked outside to blow some bubbles from my new bubble machine that the Easter bunny got me when I heard a strange screeching sound coming from our shed. I walked around to the front and to my surprise....One of our cats was lying on the pavement giving birth to kittens. Yes, eight kittens to be exact. So that Easter morning...we had 16 puppies and kittens. A few months later, I remember bawling my eyes out when Mom decided to give away the puppies and kittens. I begged her to keep them, but of course the answer was NO! The answer was always no or maybe. That was their cruel way of teasing us just to get us to shut-up for awhile when deep down they already knew the answer was no.<br />
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So over the years, many dogs and cats have passed through our house, but that $60,000 shit house on Anderson Avenue was still a place that I loved and called home. I wouldn't have changed it for the world.Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-73831200780225897382012-09-13T20:30:00.000-07:002012-09-13T20:30:19.071-07:00WINE, BOOKS and a CURE for CANCERWine, books and cancer...what an odd combination you say???? Well, if you love wine and you love romance books and you hate cancer, this is one place you will want to be on September 22, 2012.<br />
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Starr Hill Winery, along with Bri's Angels Cancer Support, Judy Davis and myself will be helping STOMP OUT CANCER!!! <br />
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There will be a variety of great tasting wine, including Pink Ice, Baily Road Red, al Mondo and many others to choose from. There will also be some great romance books, including Remembering Zane, Red Fox Woman, Fat Chances and The Unfaithful Widow. For each book sale, one dollar will be donated to the Bri's Angels Cancer Support. So make sure you to stop by and drink some wine and grab a book and help stomp out cancer by stomping on some grapes. Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-19646231868185385302012-08-05T10:21:00.001-07:002012-08-05T10:21:08.656-07:00Papparazis...leave Rob Pattinson the hell alone!!!!I don't normally write about celebrities, but this is really eating at my brain. Ever since the break-up of Rob and Kristen...the paps have been acting like a wild pack of Dingos. And frankly, I'm sick of it!!!!!!! I know it's their job and they are trying to earn a living just like the rest of us, but honestly how can they sleep at night? Do they not have a conscious? or a heart..or that little guy on their shoulder telling them..to just walk away on this one. Leave Rob alone. Leave Kristen alone.<br />
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I know being chased by the paps comes with the territory of being a celebrity, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere. Chasing Rob when the man is at his most vunerable is LOW!!! Being a huge Twilight/Rob/Edward fan, my heart goes out to him. I can only imagine what he is going through right now, but as a fan...I don't want to see his sad face plastered all over the media. I want to see him smiling, laughing and enjoying life because that is what he did for us. He made us laugh and smile (okay, cry and scream in some parts of the movies. lol) when we watch the Twilight Saga. <br />
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As for Rob/Kristen, I don't know what's going to happen between them, but Heaven only knows that they should be left alone to deal with their personal issues. Life is too short to be miserable. Rob deserves to be happy and so does Kristen and if they aren't a couple anymore, then so be it. They are young and full of life. Let them enjoy it. They don't deserve to have a camera up their ass every waking moment. <br />
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So Rob, this is some advice for you. Walk outside your door with your chin up, shoulders back and put on one of your famous smiles and while the paps are snapping away with their cameras, slowly lift your arm and raise that middle finger of yours and tell them to stick it where the sun doesn't shine.<br />
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If the story is true about Kristen....more advice....chin up, shoulders back, smile wide.....and go enjoy life. Anyone that breaks anyone's heart doesn't deserve those precious tears. Tears were made for two things.....tears of joy and tears for mourning. You aren't mourning over the love you lost with her....just celebrating the love that you have for yourself and your family.Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-69073423643253641022012-07-24T11:49:00.000-07:002012-07-24T11:49:02.668-07:00Somebody Pinch Me, Please.....First off, I would like to say....that I am very blessed. Not just the good Lord, but my family, friends and fans have been ABSOLUTELY wonderful to me. I still can't believe that I have not one, not two, not three, but four books coming out this year. This is where the pinching comes in. hehehe. Never in a millions years, would I have ever thought that I would get a book published, let alone 4! My father said, "Hell, if you keep going like this, you'll pass up Stephen King." Bahahaha.....Poor Stevie!! LOL <br />
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As proud as I am of what I have accomplished, it still wasn't an easy road to travel. I've had a few minor setbacks earlier in the year, but I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel when Write More Publications decided to pull off this incredible stunt. They edited and published three of my books in a whopping four months. WOW!!!!<br />
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My first romance story Fat Chances, came out in May. <br />
My second romance story Remembering Zane came out in June.<br />
My third romance story The Unfaithful Widow is due out August 1st. <br />
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As some of you may wonder....wasn't Remembering Zane and The Unfaithful Widow already published by another company? Yes, you are right. But Write More Publications wanted to make them a bigger and better story for you to read. And with that I am proud to announce that 3 chapters have been added to Remembering Zane and The Unfaithful Widow will have the 24 original chapters. More great romance to read...HOW GREAT IS THAT????<br />
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Here is where I need a pinch again......I got more great news this past Saturday from another publishing company by the name of Ring Of Fire Publishing. They sent me a contract for my paranormal romance, My Haunting Love. Can I get a WHOOOO HOOOOOO???<br />
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So now you know why I feel blessed...and need pinch. hehehehe <br />
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You can find all my stories on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashword in ebooks and paperbacks. Here are some links. :)<br />
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<br />Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-63428794979579555862012-06-11T05:56:00.000-07:002012-06-11T06:01:47.103-07:00We only get one chance in life to love ourself.Writing my romance story Fat Chances came easy for me, not because I am overweight, but because I was self conscious about my hearing aid. Kids were just as cruel twenty five years ago as they are today. It's sad but true, we live in a world where looks matters and it shouldn't be that way. Alot of teenage girls and boys struggle with everyday peers to become popular or 'just to fit in'. They are either overweight, or have skin problems or speech impairment or because they are poor or live in a trailer. The list goes on and on.<br />
<br />
Now that I am older and wiser(I'm complimenting myself here) lol, I see things in a different persepective. Here's how I look at it. If we were all six foot tall with platinum blonde hair and crystal blue eyes and perfectly fit with a tight ass and stomach, the world would be awfully boring. Just imagine everywhere you look, it would look like Barbie and Ken working at McDonalds or Barbie and Ken at the checkout in Walmart. Barbie and Ken EVERYWHERE!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!! <br />
<br />
Damn!! I think I would rather look at Zombies!!!!!<br />
<br />
So, what I am trying to say. Be proud of your five foot frame with brown hair and hazel eyes and those freckles across the bridge of your nose and shake that fat ass of yours and show them that you are proud of who you are. Learn to love yourself because we only get one chance in life to do it. Once we're dead, there is no second chance.<br />
<br />
I don't care what anyone says....WE ARE NOT PERFECT!!! <br />
<br />
So without further ado, here is my new romance story Fat Chances. It's available in ebook and paperback on Amazon, Nook and Smashword. <br />
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FAT CHANCES <br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Annie Powers is
eighteen and overweight. When her twin sister, Molly talks her into going to a
Zumba class, all Annie expected was a lot of sweat and sore muscles. But when
she laid eyes on the very handsome and muscular Zumba instructor, Cory Shields,
not only did he leave her gasping for breath from the exercises, but also from
their kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Dazed and confused,
Annie struggles to understand why someone like Cory would be attracted to her.
At the same time, Cory tries to make her understand that she is just as
beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Annie knows she
needs to learn to love herself before she can let Cory into her life. But can
she?<o:p></o:p></span></div>Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-10971774419454128552012-05-29T19:56:00.001-07:002012-05-29T19:56:54.021-07:00Lily, My Fertility Drug<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lily, My Fertility Drug<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">It was January 1998
and I had just come back from one of those gourmet kitchen parties that was hosted
by my very pregnant cousin. I remembered coming home and feeling very depressed.
Three of my other cousins who were also at the party were pregnant too. It
seemed like everyone around me was getting ‘knocked up’ and I wasn’t. What made
it even worse was that my hubby and I had been trying for over a year and nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I walked through
the door and sat down on the couch with tears trickling down my cheeks. Our two
black cocker spaniels, Annie and Jasmine knew right away that something was
wrong as the two of them jumped on the couch and began licking the tears from
my cheeks. They were our ‘babies’. I loved my girls, but I felt like something
was missing. A child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">A few weeks went by
and it was a typical day at my dog grooming shop. I had already groomed five
dogs that day and was waiting for the last dog of the day. I was curious to see
this ‘new’ client. The customer said she was a cocker spaniel also named Annie.
What the customer failed to tell me was that she was “very” pregnant. She was
due in a few days. Normally, I would have turned them away, but I didn’t know
she was pregnant until she came through the door. The little ‘black bear’ was
in dire need of a groom. All that kept going through my mind was that I had to
groom her and get rid of the extra hair so the puppies could find her nipples
to feed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">So as carefully and
quickly as possible, I shave the little black cocker spaniel down. I say
quickly because the whole time I was worried that she would give birth right on
my grooming table. The owner came and was very pleased and promised to call me
when the puppies were born. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Two days later,
Annie had six puppies: five females and 1 male. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Weeks went by and
still not pregnant. I was getting more and more depressed. I had started to
wonder if there was something wrong with me and strongly debated on whether I
should go see a doctor and find out why I wasn’t pregnant yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">It was the beginning
of March when I got a phone call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Jamie! Hi, it’s me
Brenda, Annie’s mom.” She said cheerfully. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh, hello.” I
tried to sound cheerful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I wanted to call
and see if you would like to come and see the puppies. They are so adorable.” She
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I bet they are.” I
said. I knew they would be adorable. I loved cocker spaniels, having two of my
own, plus my parents had a buff colored boy name Milo. He was the man/mascot of
my grooming shop. After all, it was named after him, Sir Milo’s Dog Grooming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Would you like to
come up and see them?” She asked again. I could hear the puppies yelping in the
background and my heart sputtered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh, I don’t know,
maybe.” I hesitated. She gave me her address and said I could stop by anytime.
I thanked her then hung up the phone. For the rest of the day, all I could
think about were the six little cocker spaniel puppies running around and
playing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">So after work, I
drove to her house. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I walked up her front
porch then knocked on the door. Brenda greeted me at the door with a smile on
her face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I followed her
through the dining room then into the kitchen…and there they were; playing in the
middle of the kitchen floor. I gasped at the sight of them. Four of them were
black and two were white with brown spots. I giggled like a little kid as I sat
on the floor. I opened my arms and began cooing at the four week old puppies
that barely had their eyes open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">First a chubby
black one came over to me. I picked her up and rubbed her tiny fuzzy face in
mine. Brenda stood by the counter watching and laughing. I carefully set the
black one down then turned to the small white and buff colored puppy. I lifted
it up to see what gender it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You are a little
girl.” I laughed as she looked at me with her dark round eyes. I studied the
cute little ball of fur for a moment and said, “you look like a Lily.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yes, she does. She
does look like a Lily.” Brenda agreed then came over and sat on the floor beside
us. She stretched her little neck out and licked my nose as I held her face
close to mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Awww, I love puppy
breath.” I cooed as ‘Lily’ continued to lick my nose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“If you want her, I
can hold her for you.” Brenda said. My eyes shot open as I turned around to
look at her. “Oh no, I can’t get another dog. We already have two at home. Bob
would divorce me if I brought home another dog.” I replied. I glanced down at
the sleeping puppy as I cradled her in my arms. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She does look like a Lily.</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Well, if you
change your mind, call me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I carefully laid ‘Lily’
beside her mother and thanked Brenda for letting me see them. I went home that
night and told Bob about my little puppy visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“We don’t need
another dog.” He bellowed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I know, I know. I
was just telling you how cute she is and that she looked like a ‘Lily’ is all.”
Tears welled up inside me as I turned to go to the bathroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Two weeks went by
and all I could think about was her cute little face and her sweet smelling
puppy breath. I got teary-eyed every time I thought of her going to a home and
being neglected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Jamie, what’s
wrong?” Bob asked one night during dinner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Nothing.” I
sniffled. I knew if I brought up the puppy again he would get pissed. I also
knew that part of my depression was me not getting pregnant and having a puppy…well…I
would have someone to baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“It’s about Lily
isn’t it?” I shook my head, no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He sighed heavily
then shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Go get the damn
dog.” He said. My eyes shot up as I wondered if I heard him right. “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I said, go get the
dog. If all you are going to do is cry then you might as well get her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I couldn’t believe
my ears. I jumped up from the seat and grabbed the phone book and called
Brenda.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Lily was seven
weeks old when I brought her home to meet her new family. Jasmine took a liking
to her right away, but Annie (our first ‘baby’) didn’t care too much for her.
It took two months for Annie to come around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I took Lily to the
shop with me every day and like a proud mamma, I showed her off. One guy saw me
walking her along the street one day and stopped an offered me five hundred
dollars for her. Of course I said, NO! She was my baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">More weeks went by,
and all I had time for was working and fussing over my new ‘baby’. As she grew
so did her nicknames: Lilypad, Pick, Pickles and Lily lily pick a dily. Of
course we could have called her shithead and she would have come to us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">It was April and
the grooming business was starting to get really busy. I had called Missy, a
friend of mine to come and help me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">While Lily lay in
her cage, sleeping, we were busy bathing and grooming dogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“So, are you still
trying to get pregnant?” Missy asked. I grabbed the poodle from the table and
handed him over for her to bath. “Yeah, but nothing has happened yet. I’m
beginning to think that these child bearing hips that I inherited from my
grandmother are defective.” I laughed lightly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Just then the phone
rang. I grabbed the phone and my appointment book and walked out front to where
it was quieter. As I stared at the dates, something seemed off. I quickly made
the appointment with the customer then hung up. I started back tracking the
date to when I had my last menstrual cycle then gasped. I was late. Not by
much, just a few days, but I was late. And I was never late, so this was HUGE.
I ran to the back room and grabbed my purse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Missy, I will be
right back. I’m going to the pharmacy down the street.” I ran out the door, to
the drug store that was only 4 buildings down. My heart was racing as I stared
at the small selection of pregnancy tests. I grabbed the most expensive one and
a bottle of Mountain Dew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Jamie, what’s
going on?” Missy asked as she began to towel dry the poodle. “I’m late.” A huge
smile grew on her face. I pulled the pregnancy test out of the bag and went to
the bathroom. I was anxious and scared. I had been down this road so many times
and ended up disappointed. I knew if Bob ever found out how much money I had
spent on pregnancy tests, he would shit himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I squatted on the
toilet and peed on the little white stick then carefully laid it on a paper
towel on the back of the toilet. I walked out into the grooming area where
Missy was waiting for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Well?” She asked,
anxiously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“It says to wait
ten minutes.” I sighed heavily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Missy, I’m going
to take Lily outside to pee. Will you keep an eye on the test for me? If it
says positive come outside and find me…if not…” Missy smiled, “Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">My hands were
shaking like a leaf as I walked Lily down the street. Her little black nose and
her white stub of a tail moved vigorously as she searched for the perfect place
to pee. After about five minutes and finally peeing, we turned around and
headed back towards the shop. I looked up and saw Missy standing outside the
door, waving her arms. “IT’S POSITIVE! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” She hollered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I looked down at my
little white/brown cocker spaniel and patted her head and thanked her for being
my fertility drug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElbVT5EF-Lg0rHoN6x3mLw6ipYnetMdmDuXMv5F9G-WU4JQrhntOeQbfm90JhsPnIQKlyfnnaEpHkRa-ZgJbx30_8lszqp2gLabPV5JzBSyE23J8s7_4vEubXA7TtTMOX_5SzbOHcx9DJ/s1600/lily.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElbVT5EF-Lg0rHoN6x3mLw6ipYnetMdmDuXMv5F9G-WU4JQrhntOeQbfm90JhsPnIQKlyfnnaEpHkRa-ZgJbx30_8lszqp2gLabPV5JzBSyE23J8s7_4vEubXA7TtTMOX_5SzbOHcx9DJ/s1600/lily.png" /></a></div>Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-71227993692144867612012-04-01T19:43:00.000-07:002012-04-01T19:43:37.322-07:00My Crazee World of Dogs and WritingIf any of you have read my biography on my website (<a href="http://www.jswilsoncroft.com/">www.jswilsoncroft.com</a>) then you would know that I am a dog groomer. Yes, dog groomer, author, mother, wife, cook, cleaner, chef, sister, daughter, friend, pooper scooper, dishwasher and so on and so on. You get my drift. hehehehe<br />
<br />
I have been grooming dogs and a few cats (not crazy about grooming cats but I will do it) for over 17 years and BOY OH BOY, could I tell you some crazeeee ass stories. Give me a minute and I will. Hehe...WARNING THOUGH, IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ IT!!! Bahahahaha.<br />
<br />
Hmmm...where do I start? Okay, well....once I was grooming a cocker spaniel and the poor guy was nervous as can be. His brown little legs shook while I was shaving him and he was also scared to take a bath, but when it came time to blow dry him....well let's just say...he gave the new meaning to SHIT FLIES!!! I had my head turned while blow drying him and when I glance back he started crapping all over the grooming table. I immediatly panicked and leaned over to turn off the blow dryer but not before I accidently aimed the hose at the shit and it literally flew all over the wall. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both. I ending up calling my mother and crying to her about the shit all over the wall. She laughed, "What the hell do you want me to do? Come up there and clean it?" Even though I didn't admit it, but deep down, I think I was hoping that she would have. Needless to say, I felt like a giant shitball all day and probably smelled like one too.<br />
<br />
One evening after dinner, I sat down next to my husband. I said, "Guess what?" He looked over at me and said "What?" I laughed and told him that a tall dark handsome man was hitting on me while I was work today. His blue eyebrows raised, "Really? Who was it?" I laughed playfully. "Oh, no one you know." I teased. He turned around and gave me a peculiar look. "What's his name?" He asked. I told him his name was Max and how tall dark and handsome he was. He had big dark eyes and was hung like a horse. My husband's eye grew wide. I laughed and proceeded to tell him the rest of the story. Max was a black lab mix. He was standing on the grooming table being a good boy while I was shaving him. He was tall so it was easy for my short 5'0 frame to reach under him and shave under his chest and belly. Well...while I was shaving under him, I felt this thumping on the back of my head. When I turned around, his big ole' hicky do was pointing right at me. I yelped and immediatly stood up. The horny guy was humping the back of my head while I was shaving him. My husband laughed so hard. <br />
<br />
But grooming dogs has not been all fun and games. Besides getting bit a few times and nearly clawed to death by a few cats the best and worst part about grooming is falling in love with them. I have groomed many dogs for many years and it's easy to become attached to them and their owners too. When I get a phone call from a customer telling me that they had to put their dog down, a little piece of my heart shatters. *Sighs* Okay...enough of that!!!<br />
<br />
Well...after 17 years, I can honestly say that I will never quit my day job as a groomer. Believe it or not, my dogs inspire me. For some ODDDDDD reason....all my story ideas come to me while I'm in the middle of grooming a dog. I was grooming a shih-tzu when the idea for The Unfaithful Widow popped into my head. I was grooming a poodle when Remembering Zane came pouring through. GO FIGURE!!! But all in all....I LOVE GROOMING AND WRITING. Many of my stories have dogs in them...only one didn't have a dog and that was Remembering Zane but the rest of my stories...always expect a pooch somewhere in the story. I guarantee you will fall in love with the dog as much as the characters. I did. :)Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-79575551373325568222012-03-05T18:48:00.000-08:002012-03-05T18:48:53.357-08:00There's a potatoe in my hair soup!Let me guess. You are cocking your head to the side, cringing your face and saying "EWWWW....HAIR SOUP? WTH? <br />
<br />
Well...if you are a dog or cat owner you would understand this completely. LOL<br />
Yes...I own 3 dogs, 4 if you want to count my Dad's dog, who is living here temporarily. I also groom dogs out of my home...so yes...there is HAIR!!! No..my home doesn't look like the inside of a kennel. I clean my home on a regular basis. I have to when you add two children to the mix. :)<br />
<br />
So anyways....back to the soup. How many have you ever sat down at the dinner table and pulled a hair out of your spaghetti? If you said never...then you're lying. I know it sounds repulsive, but seriously...if you know that it's your spouse's hair, then what's the big deal, right? He or she showers everyday..it's not like you are at a restaraunt and it belonged to some Joe Blow behind the counter who has been sweating all day over the grill and who the hell knows how long ago he has showered.<br />
<br />
One evening during my first year of marriage, I made a nice dinner for my husband. I served ravioli's, garlic bread and a salad and one long hair. My husband pulled it out of the sauce and ran to the bathroom gagging. At first I was pissed that he would act that way over my hair, but then I saw that the hair was black, the same color as our precious cocker spaniel, Annie. I laughed so hard that I nearly peed my pants. A few minutes later, my hubby walks into the kitchen. His face was flushed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEVwxg5K8FjdkSWGJLiZJQl1AqjyJBpSY6l7w4JTnJxtE22bqMTaz2qNQmnukQVIh1ELZLt1i3CmNLnBOUnPfmGPWrIRj5znFIqHhtZLcQLnDvKX53kkyT3jOip4dzsYxahTzkL7csM9q/s1600/my+girls.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEVwxg5K8FjdkSWGJLiZJQl1AqjyJBpSY6l7w4JTnJxtE22bqMTaz2qNQmnukQVIh1ELZLt1i3CmNLnBOUnPfmGPWrIRj5znFIqHhtZLcQLnDvKX53kkyT3jOip4dzsYxahTzkL7csM9q/s320/my+girls.png" width="320" /></a></div>I patted him on the back and said, "Honey, if it makes you feel any better, Annie just got a bath today." He shook his head and sat back down at the table. Well, that was nearly fifteen years ago and many hairs later......he still get grossed out, but he doesn't run to the bathroom gagging anymore.<br />
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So as a pet owner...finding a hair in your soup...well....that comes with the territory. Whether it's my spouse's hair or my yappy chihuahua...I gonna keep smiling and eating my dinner...because a little dog hair isn't gonna kill me.Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-34368722478899435352012-01-11T18:36:00.000-08:002012-01-11T18:36:47.744-08:00TURNING 40 GRACEFULLYWell...hells bells...I just looked at the calendar today and noticed that it was January 11th, one month before my 40th birthday. HOLY SHIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UGH!!!!!<br />
<br />
I knew that this day would come eventually...unless the good Lord has other plans for me. But 40????? I remember turning 30 and saying "Oh, I could be 50 tomorrow and it wouldn't bother me." Well WRONG-O!! Now that I am near the big 4-0 it is terrifying. I am near the age now, where our bodies start to fall apart. Yippee!! Our weight, vision, hearing (no luck from day one in that department) our hair and some of us unfortunate ones, start to shrink at this age. UGH!! For those that don't know me, I am a chubby woman that is only 5' tall and once osteoperosis kicks in...I AM SCREWED!!!! <br />
<br />
People would say that once you reach 50 you are over the hill, but lets get real folks.....its 40. Thats when the grey hairs really start sprouting, sprouting to the point that we have to spend $50.00 or more every six weeks to keep our natural looking hair color and buy facial cream to keep our skin smooth and to keep those small wrinkles around our eyes and mouth from showing. Unless you are one of those freaks who dont age until your 60. I dont even want to hear about it. lol <br />
<br />
I remember watching my mother, sit in front of the vanity mirror and cake her face with Oil of Olay. She would rub the cream all over her face and neck and arms. I never understood why she used so much cream.....until now. <br />
<br />
Men...are lucky...(well most men) as they get older they start looking more distiguished, with their grey sideburns and beards. Women....we are no longer the fresh, firm, ripe peach.......but a shrivled up one with peach fuzz hair all over our body. Men would say that women as they age, are like fine wine..... Come on now....give me a break!!! What wine was he drinking? I thought most men only like drinking beer anyways????? LOL<br />
<br />
Well....I know turning 40 isn't all that bad. I get to look back on my life and see all the wonderful things that I have accomplished. I have a wonderful hubby, two beautiful children, 3 dogs, a job and have just become a published author and I also have my health, even though I don't look like no spring chicken anymore...my hubby still loves the way I look. And lets face it...each grey hair that I have..I earned it (whether I wanted it or not) lol<br />
<br />
So the question is....Will I turn 40 gracefully? Truth??? Time will tell. LOL Maybe a with a few whiskey sours drinks, I won't mind it so much. heheheheheJamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-23196750822307530382011-12-06T19:15:00.000-08:002011-12-06T19:15:43.810-08:00A Christmas MemoryI was nine years old with blonde hair, hazel green eyes and teeth that looked like Bucky Beavers. A face only a mother could love; my mother, Joyce.<br />
My mother loved Christmas and always made sure that it was magical and special. Of course to any nine year old, everything about Christmas was special and magical. The music, the bright colorful lights, the smell of baked cookies and of course Santa and his presents. But it wasn't all those holiday treats that stuck out most in my mind. I don't remember what present I got for Christmas that year or what cookies I ate. There was one fond memory that forever took a spot in my heart and I will cherish it til the day I die.<br />
I remember coming down the stairs after taking a bath. I was wearing my long pink nightgown. The smell of popcorn lingered throughout our two story house, making my mouth water. <br />
"Here Jame, grab the bowl of popcorn on the counter." My mother said with a big smile on her face. I smiled back, eagerly waiting to see what she had planned for the evening. She grabs two big glasses of soda then walks towards the living room with me trailing behind her.<br />
My father, Jim, was already in the living room, setting everything up. My eyes grew wide as he turned off all the lights except for the Christmas tree lights. Mom had laid out two large blankets across the living room floor, right next to the stereo. <br />
I copied her as she laid down onto her stomach, facing the tree then began shoving handfuls of popcorn into her mouth. I looked up to see Dad standing in front of the stereo. Soon, the voice of Merle Haggard filled the living room as he sang "Santa Clause and popcorn, Jingle bells and reindeer horns."<br />
I laughed as I watched and listened to mom and dad sing along to Merle. Soon, after swallowing a mouthful of popcorn, I joined in. The three of us lied on the floor for hours, eating popcorn and listening to some good ole fashion Christmas music.<br />
<br />
My mother is gone now. It will be four years ago on December 21 and I still laugh and cry when I hear Merle Haggard's "Santa Clause and Popcorn" song. I thank my mother for giving me such a wonderful childhood Christmas memory. Love you Mom!!!!Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-84702121302761506032011-11-22T12:39:00.000-08:002011-11-22T12:39:00.731-08:00A Cullens ThanksgivingHere is a special treat in honor of the Twilight Saga and Thanksgiving. Enjoy!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Thanksgiving with the Cullens<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">"Come on Dad!" Reneesme squealed pulling Edward’s arm. Edward followed along willingly with a huge grin across his stone face as I followed closely behind. Reneesme was excited that Thanksgiving was just a few days away. She wanted to show us where she and Jacob had found a flock of turkeys that were deep in the woods. "Shhhhh!" She whispers putting her tiny little finger to her lips. Even though this was her second Thanksgiving, it really felt like her first. With everything that had gone on in our lives last year, the Volturies, we really didn't get to celebrate the holidays the traditional way. Edward and I and the rest of the family, including Jacob, made a promise that we would make this a special holiday for Nessie. I watched my beautiful daughter as she gracefully walked through the woods. Her deep brown eyes glistened with delight as she spotted a turkey. I stood back, watching her and Edward pointing and whispering to each other about the turkeys. Nessie lifts her head up, sucking in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the wild bird. "Hmph! They don't smell too good do they?" She whispers to Edward. Her little nose crinkled in disgust. He chuckles quietly. "Most birds don't my love. But they do taste pretty good. Eating just one isn't very filling though." I laughed under my breath at his comment. Edward turns to look at me with his smoldering golden eyes, making my stone cold heart jump out of my chest. I gave him a wink then a smile. "Daddy! Look! Look at that big one there." She points at a turkey that stood in the middle of the flock. It stood at least a foot taller than the rest of the turkeys. "That one will fill you, Daddy." Nessie speaks louder, scaring the turkeys. We watched as they all flapped their wings and flew for safety. "WOW!" Her eyes lit up with amazement. We all held hands together as we walked back to the cottage.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alice was busy decorating our cottage for Christmas. She wanted it to be a surprise for Nessie. I was really looking forward to decorating as a family, but of course, Alice always gets her way. I did make one request. That Edward, Nessie and I decorate the tree. She put her lower lip out, pouting, but then she agreed. Of course, Edward was standing there glaring at her. I'm sure that made a difference. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Nessie let go of my hand to run ahead of us. Edward and I watched her as she happily skipped through the forest with her long bronze hair blowing gently in the wind. Edward's laugh was like a sweet melody to my ears as we watched Nessie continuing skipping through the woods, punching a tree here and there, knocking them to the ground. She turns to smile, exposing her pearly white teeth, as dimples formed around her little mouth. Even though she was just born last year, she has already grown to the size of a 5 year old. And her intelligence was way beyond our imaginations. Carlise was still studying about this. Wondering if this is also one of her many gifts that she already possessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Mommy! Look!" I looked up to see what Nessie was pointing at. A bright light was glowing ahead in the woods, in the direction of where our cottage stood. "Ugh! Please don't tell me that Alice has built a winter wonderland theme around our home." I moaned. Edward looked at me with a nervous smile. "Ugh!" I moaned again low enough so that Nessie wouldn't hear me. Nessie took off running at full speed. So we followed closely behind. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"WOW!" She hollered so loud that it made Emmett's booming laugh sound like a whisper. Carlise, Esme, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie and Jacob were all standing in the yard in front of the cottage, chuckling. Nessie ran up and gave each and every one of them a hug, thanking them for the wonderful surprise. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Yep, I was right. Alice had built a winter wonderland. I glared at Edward for not stopping this but when I saw the look on Nessie’s face, how excited she was. I shook my head and bit my tongue. Alice turned and laughed at me then proceeded on to give us a grand tour. We all walked in a single file line with Nessie and Alice being first of course. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">There was fake snow spread out all over the yard, front and back. The whole cottage itself was lit up, changing colors from blue to red to green to purple then back to blue and so forth. A real life-like Santa Claus was sitting in a sleigh with eight tiny reindeers in the front. It pretty much took up the front yard. “Ugh”. I moaned. Edward squeezed my hand, leaning down to kiss my hair. I wrapped my arms around his waist, as we continued to the stroll inside the cottage. Nessie with her mouth open wide, walked slowly soaking everything. Everyone else seemed entertained by Nessie wondrous reactions. I looked over at Jacob, he too was just as excited as Nessie was, as if it was his first Christmas too. I could feel a smiling cracking through my stone cold face. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Mommy! Daddy! Quick! She grabs our hands leading us towards her bedroom. A small gasp escaped my lips when I walked into her room. I had to admit I had never seen anything like it, except maybe on television. Her room was truly magical. Christmas music was playing softly in the background. There were red and white lights streaming from the ceiling from one end of the wall to the other. A huge spruce tree was in the corner of her room, decorated in a candy theme. An electric train chugged around the room with little puffs of smoke shooting from the steam engine. Nessie ran from one end of her room to the other looking and touching everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">"Hahahaha, look at the train, there are little presents on the flat cars." She squealed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Nessie dear, those are real presents for you, one for each day of December for you to open." Alice's purred. Jacob sat on the floor to get a closer look at the train. He looked like a giant lying on the floor beside the small train and it's little presents. Nessie walked over and sat down beside him, both if them watching the train chug past them, making a circle around the tree until it came back again. Edward and I quietly walked out of her room to let her play. We continued to tour the rest of the house. I was relieved to see that she left our bedroom alone. The living room was decorated in maroon and gold. I had to admit everything looked very elegant, although it was too fancy for my taste, but I bit my tongue. I did notice that an eight foot spruce tree stood bare in the corner of the room. "Thank you." I whispered in Alice's ear as I hugged her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thanksgiving Day was finally here. We all dressed up for this special occasion. Nessie was exceptionally darling in a sparkling purple dress with matching shoes. Purple was her favorite color, for now at least. She changes it about once a week. Last week it was lime green. Whatever is her favorite color is, Esme, Alice and Rosalie take her shopping and buy her a week’s worth of clothes in that color. I told them that they were spoiling her, creating a monster but that just brought on a roar of laughter. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;">Edward walked into the living room wearing a dark blue Armani suit. It still took my breath away when he came toward me. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me up to put his lips to mine. Nessie giggled as she watched us kiss. I grudgingly agreed to wear a Vera Wang sparkling blue dress. The strapless dress was a little too provocative for my taste. Naturally, Alice was the one who picked it out. Edward seemed to like the dress more than I did as ran his the back of his soft hands down my shoulder to my wrist, sending tingles through my body. "Behave! We have a dinner to attend." I whispered, nuzzling his ear. "Hmmmm." He moaned. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This was all new to us, spending Thanksgiving the traditional way or the Cullen's way. The ten of us, including Jacob, went hunting for turkey. Nessie was the first to bag a turkey. Jacob went next, then we all followed. I had to laugh watching Emmett chase after a turkey. He couldn't decide which one he wanted. He ran around like a chicken with his head cut off. Of course, Edward got the big turkey, Nessie made sure of it. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as I stood back, leaning against a tree, watching my new loving family play hide and seek with my daughter. Memories of my own Thanksgiving weren't this happy. But that was okay, as long as Nessie was having the time of her life, that was all that mattered to me. All because of Nessie, we started a new tradition today. I smiled knowing there was going to be many more new traditions in the Cullen’s house. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Bella love. We got to get going. Charlie will be expecting us soon."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edward's sweet breath whispered to my ear. We all walked back to the Cullen's house laughing and singing. I was truly blessed. I would have given up my soul a thousand times over for this moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;">I WISH EVERYONE A SAFE AND HAPPY THANKSGIVING!</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-10718025349618213502011-10-06T08:22:00.000-07:002011-10-06T08:22:32.335-07:00Best of Both WorldsNoooo...I'm not talking about Hannah Montana's song. I'm talking about me. Well...it's a comment that my husband says about me from time to time. He says that I have the best of both worlds. Why you ask....Well...I was born with a disability, a hearing disability. At four years old I was fitted for my first hearing aid and started speech therapy shortly after so that I was prepared for kindergarten. All through elementary I was treated like a special needy child. The teachers made me sit up front and were always making sure that I could hear them and understand what was going on in class. At that age, all I cared about was recess and snack time. But as I grew older, things weren't so simple. Of course being a teenager, I had the same problems as most other teenagers such as peer pressures and making friends and struggling to find myself (hmmm...of course that didn't come til much later). <br />
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As I look back in my teenage years, I really had it good then but I just didn't realize it. <br />
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I remembered one day while sitting in history class. My teacher, Mr. Selner was giving one of his long boring speeches about the tribes in Africa. My eyelids started getting heavy as I sat in my desk, staring at his lips ( I read alot of lips to communicate). I remembered reaching behind my ear and turning off my hearing aid (which I had done many many many times). The next thing I knew the whole class was staring at me and laughing. Mr. Selner was standing in front of me with a smirk on his face "Well class, Jamie is turning me off again." He chuckles. I could feel my face turning three shades of red in that split second. Needless to say, I didn't do it again in his class in fear of him catching me again. <br />
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Now that I am older, wiser and deafer. lol Yes...I now where two hearing aids....well I'm supposed to. That's where my husband comes in and tells me that I have the best of both worlds. If I don't want to hear the kids screaming and fighting or the dogs barking or the neighbor guy blasting his stereo to "Money for Nothing" song from Dire Strait, I can simple take my hearing aids out or turn them off.<br />
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Although I have missed out on alot of joyous sounds, like the coos of my children when they were babies or the song of a bird singing in the morning or crickets chirping in the early evening. I'm sure that there are far more sounds that I would rather not hear. So if you come to me someday to nag and scream or bitch about something....and you see my reaching behind my ears, that is me turning you OFF!!!!Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-28132309435403710952011-09-10T18:07:00.000-07:002011-09-10T18:07:20.510-07:00My Little HeathenHmmm....where do I begin? Oh yes...first I have to say "What was I thinking?" As an animal lover...I just invested in another puppy. Why do you ask? When I already have two (a 13 yr old Cocker spaniel and a 3 year old chihuhua). I don't know why....maybe I secretly want to be one of those animal hoarders. God help me!!!! <br />
The newest addition to the Wilsoncroft family is a teacup chihuahua named Lola. She weighs only 1 lb 8 ounces, so really she doesn't take up alot of space but geesh....her bite makes up for everything else. Did I mention that she is a little heathen? When I compare her to my first chihuahua Sophie...there is NO comparison. Sophie was the most perfect and I say that with a capital "P" dog on the face of the Earth. She only ever peed once in my home and pooped once and as for chewing on my children's toys....she never did such thing. She played with her own toys which were always scattered all over the living room like a cyclone had come through it. <br />
But what was I thinking? That all chihuahua puppies were this good? Hell to the NO!!! Sophie set the bar sooo high that poor Lola sits on the low end of the totem pole. Honestly.....looking back Sophie wasn't a normal puppy...just the perfect puppy. Lola is a normal active rug muncher who does what puppies do best...peeing, pooping and chewing. Thank God she is cute because honestly...that is what is saving her little white fuzzy ass.....and the fact that I do love puppy breath.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrK2t8H5CYVFFuPB8D4m0yvCsFzuAUlkZBia_7BlyRt3E_MzGwzj2YA9RkR-V5ewD_rgUGUsRp1UDdeL-DqlKA1Iytsu0m_MC8PVcPq4cbQY0HHWI_hLoOUoRcoqtsWR5NpirdIxADKwO/s1600/310686_266788746673765_100000279242620_1067323_2370315_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJrK2t8H5CYVFFuPB8D4m0yvCsFzuAUlkZBia_7BlyRt3E_MzGwzj2YA9RkR-V5ewD_rgUGUsRp1UDdeL-DqlKA1Iytsu0m_MC8PVcPq4cbQY0HHWI_hLoOUoRcoqtsWR5NpirdIxADKwO/s320/310686_266788746673765_100000279242620_1067323_2370315_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>That is another story all together....Puppy breath......the second best smell next to the smell of a newborn baby.Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-31293525651541083072011-08-15T08:19:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:19:34.775-07:00Don't sit under the apple tree <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DON'T SIT UNDER THE APPLE TREE<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">CHAPTER 1<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I will never forget the date it was Thursday June 26, 2008. It was the day that Todd and I moved into our new home. We had been searching for the perfect house for a year. We both wanted something with a little bit of land that was not too far from town. But a lot of the homes that we had looked with the realtors were either dumps or highly overpriced. Until one day I found an ad in the local paper. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">FOR SALE: AN OLD ABANDONED HOUSE ON TWO AND HALF ACRES OF LAND. THREE MILES OUT OF TOWN. Price negotiable. Call 555-2478.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I stared at the ad for a few minutes with tears clouding my eyes. I knew the moment I saw the ad that this was the place we were looking for. Without even seeing the property, I knew that this was we had been searching for. I called Todd at work and told him about the ad. His response….was to call right away before someone snatches it up. My heart was racing like a runaway train when I picked up the phone and dialed the number.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Two days later we were pulling up the steep dirt driveway next to a two story house that looked to be a hundred years old or more and definitely abandoned. It siding was made of its original wood not the aluminum siding that you see on houses nowadays. The wood was old and dark and probably full of termites I presumed. Just thinking about it gave me the heebie jeebies.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Todd and I got out of our Jeep and walked over to an older gentleman who was standing beside the old house. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You must be Mr. Wall?” I asked, reaching my hand out to shake his. Todd did the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“And you must be Todd and Madison Holmes?” Mr. Wall said. He was a squirrely looking man, short like me, maybe an inch taller than my 5 foot petite frame. He had brownish grey hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed for days and his beard and mustache were in need of a good trim. But it was a look that I was accustomed too. A lot of the older folks who lived in this part of town looked like this, especially the older farmers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yes.” Todd answered. I smiled nervously at the older gentleman. I couldn’t help but stare at his worn clothes and shoes and his eyebrows. It took all I had to keep from laughing at his eyebrows. They were the bushiest eyebrows that I have ever seen on a person. They had to be at least 2 inches thick, maybe more.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Follow me then.” He ordered, walking around the old house. I glanced up at Todd, hinting to him while raising my eyebrows up and down. He smiled at me then elbowed me playfully to keep quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“This old house was built in 1918 by my grandfather, Orvis Wall.” He walked up the steps and to the door, using a key to open it. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and stared at him with wide eyes. Did he seriously think that we were here to buy the house? This old house that was filled with bats, mice and termites and God knows what else.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Reading my mind, Todd quickly stepped forward. “Uh..Mr. Wall, we are not here to look at the house. We are interested more in the land. If we buy this land, more than likely we will be tearing this old place down.” I sighed in relief when Todd told him our plan. The old man turned around slowly and with his mouth agape, staring at us like we had just committed the worst crime ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Wha..wha..wha…did you say?” He stuttered. His hands began to shake as he glanced back and forth between Todd and I. I immediately began to panic, afraid that we were going to put this old man into cardiac arrest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh no Mr. Walls. What my husband meant to say was that we are planning on building another home here, somewhere on this property. We just weren’t going to live in this house.” I tried to speak calmly as he continued to shake.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh..well…well that’s fine then. There is plenty of room for another home on this land.” Mr. Wall locked the door then continued to tell us the history about the house. About his grandfather Orvis and grandmother Ethel and how much he used to love this house and staying here when he was a young boy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“There’s an old pond down over that hill there.” He said pointing across the yard. “And there used to be an old pig pen where my grandfather and father used to raise and butcher them. Boy! Those were the days.” He chuckled as he grabbed a pipe from his breast pocket and began packing it with tobacco from a pouch that he kept in his back pocket. I watched with amazement, how he stuffed and packed the pipe then lit it with an old silver zippo that he kept in his other front pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Did I tell you that my Pappy Orvis taught me how to smoke a pipe?” Todd and I shook how heads, amused. I always got a kick out of old folks and how they liked to talk about their younger days. They never seemed to forget what happened to them when they were kids but if you asked them what happened last week they would look at you clueless.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I walked back over to the Jeep as Todd and Mr. Wall did some negotiating. My head snapped up when I heard Todd say “What? Are you serious?” My heart sunk when I heard him say these words. I really liked the property back here. It was quiet and secluded and yet the nearest neighbor was just across the road, caddy corner from us. And the best part was that we were only 3 miles from town. It wasn’t that I liked living in town. Todd and I both grew up in the small town of Centerville. We both thought it would be a nice change of pace to live in the “country” so to speak. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Todd Holmes was a senior when he first laid eyes on me. I was just a freshman, a straggly looking freshmen, if you ask me with brown frizzy hair from a bad perm that my mother had given me and my teeth were covered with braces. Yep, metal mouth was my nickname at that time. Todd on the other hand was tall, 6 foot to be exact with short dirty blond hair and the bright green eyes that I had ever seen. Every time he would smile, two perfect dimples would pop out, making his face more handsome than ever. All the girls in school were crazy about him, myself included but I knew that he was way out of my league….until the day he accidently tripped me in the hall and I went flying across the hall with my books went sailing in every direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">But that wasn’t what caught his attention it was the blood pouring from my mouth. I had bitten my tongue when my face smacked off the floor. He literally carried me to the nurse’s station, apologizing a hundred times. From that day on, he had always been in my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I stood quietly watching Todd and Mr. Wall talk. After a few minutes they shook hands and parted ways. My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach when I saw the disgusted look on Todd’s face, leaving me to believe that the negotiation didn’t go well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I quietly walked around the passenger side door and jumped in. I knew that we didn’t get it. Todd was too quiet when he started up the Jeep.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Well…aren’t you going to ask me?” He turned to look at me before shifting gears.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I know.” My lips quivered again. And so the search continued looking for a place to call home. I was so sick of renting the small apartment that we had lived in for the last year and a half. We both talked about starting a family and the apartment we lived it barely fit the two of us let alone adding a baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You know? What are you psychic?” He remarked. I turned around to see a huge smile, dimples included across his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“What? What? We got it?” I shrieked jumping in my seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yep, my lady we found ourselves a home.” He laughed. “And it was a steal too. I offered him more money but he wouldn’t take it.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as I could.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“What was the final price?” I asked pulling my arms away from him. I was curious now as to what was said between them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Five hundred dollars!” He chuckled in disbelief. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, five hundred dollars for two and a half acres of land? Things were finally starting to look up for us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The next few weeks were crazy. We ordered the perfect double wide home with four bedroom and two baths and two huge living rooms, one with a fireplace. And weeks after that, we had the ground dug up to start on our basement. Todd always wanted a finished basement, someplace where his buddies could come over and drink beer and play pool and watch the Pittsburg Steelers on a huge flat screen tv. Our home was soon to be a reality. The only problem that I had was the location that we had chosen. We had just bought two and half acres of land and the only place that we could place our new home was right behind the old house. Todd explained to me that there was a natural gas well line running through here and well with the price of fuel these days…having natural gas was a big advantage, especially in the winter time. I wasn’t keen on the idea of cooking on a gas stove, afraid that I will burn the house down but if it was going to save us a lot of money in the future then how could I argue?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">After two and half months of signing our life away with loan papers and packing boxes after boxes, we were finally moving into our new home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">After spending hours unloading the Uhaul truck and placing the boxes in their dedicated rooms, Todd and I along with our parents were exhausted. We hadn’t realized how much stuff we had accumulated in the last year and a half and what boggled all of our minds was where in the hell did we keep it all in our little shoe box of an apartment.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I told you she was a hoarder.” Todd teased as we all sat around the kitchen table eating pizza. “GAH!” I picked up a wad of napkins and threw them at his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yeah, she gets it from her mother.” My father decided to join in by teasing my mother. My parents Jeff and Maggie Mason were high school sweethearts too and married young, only because my mother had gotten pregnant with me at the tender age of sixteen. I looked more like my father with the thick dark coarse brown hair and dark brown eyes. My mother had short feathered hair with green eyes. I was petite like her, minus the middle age spread. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“GAH!” Mother and I both gasped and stared at Dad for being so rude. His broad shoulder shaking as he laughed. “What? It’s true. You go home right now and look in our closet. The woman has at least a hundred boxes of puzzles stacked to the ceiling. Believe me, I know. I dread every hunting season when I gotta get my gun out of there. It ends up being a two hour production.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh for heaven’s sake, it does not take you two hours to get your gun.” Maggie scolded playfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Like hell it does.” My father continued to tease my mother. Todd’s father Ted joined in and began tormenting Carol, Todd’s mother. Soon all six of us were bickering back and forth, guys against the girls. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">After dinner, we thanked our parents for helping us and watched them pull out of the driveway, all of them promising to be here early the next morning to help unpack more boxes. As I turned to walk back into the house, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I snapped around to look at the window of the old house. It was one of the windows on the second floor. I could have sworn that I had seen someone standing there. But all I could see was a white curtain that looked torn to shreds. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Todd and I spent a few more hours unpacking boxes that were marked ‘kitchen’. Todd stood by the cupboards as I carefully handed him our ceramic plates, bowls and glasses. I was so excited. Everything was fresh and new and exactly the way we wanted it. Our new house was starting to feel like a home. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">It was getting late when we both decided to call it a night. Todd crashed on the bed and was snoring within minutes. I had decided to take a nice warm shower before going to bed. I was anxious to take my first shower in my new home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I stood under the shower for a while enjoying the warm water soothe my aching back and shoulders. I hadn’t realized how out of shape I was until we began packing and moving these boxes. As I began lathering my hair with shampoo I heard a voice in the bathroom with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Todd is that you?” I stood quietly for a moment waiting for his reply but he didn’t answer. Then I heard it again. It wasn’t a voice. It was singing. I knew that this wasn’t Todd because it was a female voice singing. I slowly grabbed the shower curtain then quickly snapped it back to see who was in here with me. But the bathroom was empty. I hurried and rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and got out of the shower. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">As I began to dry myself off, I could hear the singing again. This time it was louder, loud enough for me to understand the words to the song.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Don’t sit under the apple tree, with anyone else but me. Anyone else but me, anyone else but me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGHHiopXBKuXR_OfUFfZ5g2AIaOmc5Sgt9gbXEfHx9UyOWNPzwP6jDkuMmHPZeuSGafSmjfTitgron_POOkofql9mZFItkmB90SDwI4HQleogh2WxcymqL92jxAKbifcaRgOOu0Fgd4jd/s1600/Unknown%252520Woman%252520bjm8_thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGHHiopXBKuXR_OfUFfZ5g2AIaOmc5Sgt9gbXEfHx9UyOWNPzwP6jDkuMmHPZeuSGafSmjfTitgron_POOkofql9mZFItkmB90SDwI4HQleogh2WxcymqL92jxAKbifcaRgOOu0Fgd4jd/s1600/Unknown%252520Woman%252520bjm8_thumbnail.jpg" /></a></div>Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-29368198853155826692011-07-26T08:59:00.001-07:002011-07-26T08:59:59.279-07:00Dorothy<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">DOROTHY<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She came to me in my dream. At least I thought it was a dream, considering that I haven’t slept for two days. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I thought it was strange that I was standing in the middle of a car repair shop, a shop that I didn’t recognized. I glanced around looking for sign stating the name of the shop or at least tell me where I was at, but there was nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Leaning up against an old blue Buick Century was a woman that I did not recognized. Even though she was dressed in pair of dirty denim coveralls that mechanics usually wore, she still looked out of place.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Who are you?” I asked. I slowly walked towards her as she waved her milky white hand for me to come. I was awestruck by her beauty. Her creamy white skin was flawless and her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, reminding me of a model. But her most prominent feature were her lips. They were the brightest red lips that I had ever seen. They were her natural lips, not the caked with red lipstick.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I asked again, “Who are you and why am I here?” I gave her a peculiar look when she smiled at me. Right away I felt stupid for asking her name when it was there in plain sight over her left breast. A white name tag with DOROTHY embroidered in red.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I’m Dorothy.” She says. I was shocked at the sound of her voice. It was sweet and melodic, reminding me of a group of children singing in a church choir. Anytime I would hear a children’s choir it would always give me goose bumps, just like it did now. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Where am I?” I glanced around the dirty shop, again looking for a clue to where I was.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She ignored my question. “You are troubled.” She sounded apologetic. I thought that was odd. Why would she be sympathetic with me? She doesn’t know me nor I her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Uhhh…what are you talking about?” I couldn’t help staring at her bright red lips. They were beautiful and perfect. Flawless. Everything about this woman was flawless, from the strands of her thick dark hair to the tip of her perfectly manicured fingers. Wait a minute! What mechanic has perfect nails? Aren’t they usually grimy and caked with grease and dirt?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You are restless my child. You are worried about your Mother.” My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach when she mentioned my Mother. My eyes became murky as I tried to look her in the eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Do you…er’ did you know my…m..mother?” I stammered. I still couldn’t say her name without getting a lump at the size of a golf ball in my throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Yes, I knew her. She was a wonderful woman. I was with her til the day she died.” Her voice was soft, soothing as she looked at me with her dark brown eyes. I cocked my head to the side, curious. I didn’t remember seeing her at the hospital on the day that my mother died. The day that she became free from the pain that rheumatoid arthritis had done to her poor weak body. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Were you one of her nurses?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She laughed sweetly, “You could say that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Dear child, she doesn’t want you worrying about her anymore. She is at peace and she wants you to be too.” She reached her milky white hands out for me to touch but I kept them deep inside my pockets. My legs began to shake and the tears began to fall.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I can’t. Not when I could have done more. Not when I could have helped her take away her pain.” I began sobbing as I remembered her lying in her bed sleeping with her forehead wrinkled in pain. “She never complained about her pain. In all these years when the arthritis was slowly destroying her organs and her joints, she never once told me how much pain she was really in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Oh dear child, mothers are like that. They don’t want their children to see or know their agonies.” She took a step towards me, still holding her hands out. I could feel my clenched hands loosening inside my pockets as I debated whether to take them out.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Did you know how much pain she was in?” My lips trembled as I asked her this question.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Hmmm…let me see.” She pondered for a moment, then turned her dark eyes on me. “Okay…have you ever ridden a bike up a steep hill, a hill that seemed to go on for miles?” She asked. I shook my head understandably. I was an avid bike rider. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Well, you know the feeling of how every muscle in your arms and legs and body ache when you are pushing and struggling to reach the top of the hill. That pulling, aching and burning feeling?” I shook my head slowly, understanding exactly what she meant. Tears began to fill my eyes quickly, trickling down my cheeks and onto my shirt. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“This is how your Mother felt 24/7.” Without giving it a second thought I ran to her as she embraced me with her warm loving arms. Suddenly I felt peaceful and at ease and very tired.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I woke up with the sun shining brightly through my bedroom window. When I sat up in the bed, I noticed my shirt was soaked and something black smudged near my left breast pocket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3701276254991298794.post-43914137523672957382011-06-19T12:53:00.000-07:002011-06-19T12:53:47.167-07:00A Father to RememberA Father to Remember......No my Father is not gone. He is alive and well and I'm grateful for that. We all have memorable stories of how great and not so great our fathers were when we were growing up. Some of us have sad stories and some of us have happy stories or even funny stories. But if it weren't for our father's seeds we wouldn't be here on Earth to even mention those memories.<br />
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I had a typical childhood growing up, to say the least. Many happy memories, many not and many that I have completely forgotten. Why you ask? Hell if I know. Brain farts? But the memories that I do have I cherish. Like the time, my Dad and I went fishing. I was maybe around the age of thirteen, not really excited about hanging out with my dad when I had better things to do, like hanging out with my girlfriends to talk about boys. But anyways Dad dragged me fishing. We were sitting along an old riverbank behind one of his buddie's house. This river was known for the carps and muskies.<br />
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After sitting along the bank for hours, bored out of my fricking mind and NO we didn't have cell phones back then or else I would have spent the hours texting my friends. We waited and waited for one bite, hell a nibble would have made our blood soar but NOTHING. We were just getting ready to pack up and leave when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad's pole flicker.<br />
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I yelled his name (quietly) cause them fish can hear us when we talk. Go figure, I didn't know fish had ears. He turned around and damn near fell flat on his face when he tripped over the tackle box. I watched him move like a streak of lightening grabbing that fishing pole and swinging it back, hoping to hook this bad boy on. <br />
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"Jamie, I think we got a big one here!" Dad yelled. Yes, he yelled and let the whole river of fish know that we were there. lol I stood up, excited now. This was the only thing some what exciting that has happened in the last two hours besides me getting grossed out by the sight of worm poop. Yes, worm poop is gross. Have you ever seen it? <br />
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For fifteen minutes Dad pulled and released and pulled and released the line trying to pull this monster in. I could see that he was getting tired but the excitement on his face showed that he wasn't about to give up, not by a long shot. The fish was doomed to die. I grabbed the net and set it beside his feet, so that it would be handy for when he brought the fish close enough to the edge of the bank. I stood back and watched.<br />
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Another ten minutes went by and we were finally able to see the fish. And HOLY SHIT was it a monster. The damn thing had to be at least three feet long.<br />
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"Look at that musky! I'm gonna have that baby mounted!" Dad cheered. I could picture it now....Mom would be totally appalled at the idea of a fricking fish hanging on the living room wall next her picture of humming birds. <br />
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I watched Dad as he bends over to grab the net. Just as he reaches the net into the water to grab the monsterous fish, a loud snapping sound seemed to echo all around us.<br />
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"What was that?" I gasped. I looked over at Dad, who had the most horrify look on his face. He stood there staring at me with the net in one hand and a broken pole in the other.<br />
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So that was how the story came to be, about Dad missing the BIG ONE. That happened um....tw...(clearing throat)six years ago. We don't need to know the exact years and to this day he still talks about missing the BIG ONE. Oh and by the way he missed the BIG ONE deer hunting too but I didn't go there with him. The very thought of hunting for Bambi made me cry.Jamie Wilsoncrofthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11458876685323770942noreply@blogger.com4