Blogging Hiatus

I need a break. It dawned on me the other day that between cranking out a new manuscript (very excited about this one) and taking care of things at home, I’m feeling a bit depleted. I considered areas of my life where I could make adjustments.

And I landed here.

I love blogging, and have remained committed to it for over ten years. However, I’ll be taking the month of April to reassess my blogging goals.

I do plan to return in May. I’m just not sure what that return will look like. I’m anticipating my social media presence to be spotty over the next few months.

Thanks to those who’ve been faithful readers. Many of you have encouraged me on this writing journey, and words are inadequate when it comes to expressing my gratitude.

In the meantime, be kind to one another. And enjoy this picture of my dog. She’s a nut. A lovable nut.

Preparing for the Big Move

I forgot how much goes into the pre-stages of preparing for a big move. It’s all coming back to me. Except this time we’re headed all the way across country, so we are making efforts to visit with the grandparents before we head west.

We sold the house, so now I guess we’d better find a new place to live.

I’m still relishing the special memories I have of my family spending time with my mom this past weekend. It’s fresh on my mind and heart.

For a comedic twist, I go to pick up our lively pup at the vet a little while ago only to discover she’s in heat. Did I mention I’m glad we sold the house?

Please forgive me if I’m a little MIA over the next few months. I’m still working on a novel I’ve been plotting and brainstorming for over a year, but this, doing this big move thing again after only a year, is taking a bit out of me.

Onward.

Greetings from Edit Land

I’m immersed in revisions. And this is a good thing. There’s nothing quite like having direction and running with it. I like to joke that entering a season of editing closely compares to visiting a famous hotel in California. You can check in any time you like, but you can never leave. At least it feels that way. I’ve frequented my novel a lot in my dreams lately. Ideas for plot changes filter through conversations. Even in the midst of a fairly significant life transition my family is going through, I still find myself hacking through details in my book. It feels glorious. It’s not that I love editing. I don’t particularly enjoy coming across ridiculous mistakes I’ve made, slashing chapters, disappearing characters, or the laborious task of reimagining entire sections of my book.

But I do love working toward improvement. I’m all in when it comes to that.

If I’m a little quiet on social media you’ll understand why.

I’m playing Edit Twister

or coaching my dog how to tackle edits on the days my brain is mush.

*posting again on Feb. 27th.

Heart Ponderings & Why I Refuse to Let Dog Vomit Win

I woke up to dog puke this morning. And then I broke a few things by accident. Which led me to

think I’m pretty much guaranteed to have one sucky day.

That was until I remembered the time of year. And all that’s happened in my life over the past year. And you.

I ordered the cranky voice quiet and took a few moments to reflect on all I have to be thankful for.

Things like…

Kids that still open their arms to hug me, a roaring fire in the fireplace yesterday, a husband who brought up my books to the company we hosted this weekend, my books—that I’ve worked hard and and people are actually buying and reading them, my health (even though I’m really curious about a few new bumps and red dots on my skin), that I have a God who teaches me how to forgive and love deeply, candles, warm blankets, that I even have a dog (wild and crazy as she is), the walk I took with my husband last night, family I love to talk to on the phone, a memorable church message, a motley crew of diverse and fortifying friendships, the will in me to grow and learn, an indestructible fight inside of me. The glory of this season. Every day I get to be here on earth. . .

published four books

And I ponder in my heart, much like Mary did that majestic evening she held her newborn in her arms, when life feels most overwhelming and kissed by a spiritual otherness that’s difficult to conceptualize, it’s best to embrace all of the gifts of truth we’ve been given. To cling fast to life, and light, and everything that imbues us with hope.

Because hope is living and real. 

{And it’s far more appealing than dog vomit.}

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Mystery Writer

 

The mystery behind who really wrote

THE DELICATE NATURE OF LOVE . . .

It's available to buy!

Paperback

Kindle

 

 

Purchase your copy today & spread the word!

8 Things My Dog Would Say if She Could Talk ~ A Tribute

Korah died yesterday. I can’t think of a better tribute than to repost one of my most well-visited posts. Enjoy reading some of my favorite memories about her…

We taught our dog to talk. She can say I love you and out, though the two often get confused. We sometimes think she’s expressing her affection for us when she really just needs to hit the grass.

This got me thinking. What would our beloved canine say if she really could talk? Here are my thoughts on this I 8 Wednesday:

• I like how my mom (she calls herself that, but I’m no fool. I don’t believe I grew in her belly like those other three non-hairy ones) nestles next to me when she’s sad. Yum…salty tears.
• I’ve worked hard to master what they call “a cute puppy dog face” when I’m drooling, and dying to have a little nibble of what they’re eating. Mom caves easily. The non-hairy ones seem indifferent and usually let me take a few licks. Dad, he’s the hardest one. Gotta work on my face more.
• My family feels bad for me when I get squirted by a skunk. Sheesh, it’s happened enough times. What they don’t know is I’m the one who wins. They’ve never seen the skunk after the fiasco, have they?
• Mom must really enjoy picking up my poop. She saves it all for one day toward the end of the winter and spends over an hour scooping it up in the backyard (aka: my kingdom).
• Yes, I eat my own fur after they brush it off of me (if I can get to it in time). What they don’t know is every time I eat it it goes into my stomach and finds a way to grow on my skin again. So the brushing thing—it’s really a futile act. Wonder when they’ll wake up and smell the truth? Humans!
• The vet = public enemy #1. Cats in our neighborhood are spies for the vet. I can’t figure out what side the mail carrier is on. But I’m beginning to understand those pesky squirrels in the backyard (my kingdom) aren’t just gathering nuts. I think they’re transferring messages to the cats to take to public enemy #1.
• Yeah, so, I walked straight up to the police station where the animal control guy parks his truck? I wanted to see what it was like on the inside. Mom’s a writer. She gets this. All in the name of research, right Mom?
• I’ve been all around the country, but I’d have to say the coolest place my parents took me (other than a park in South Dakota where my parents had to chuck graham crackers out of the car…dropping some inside the car…in order to get past the enormous donkeys) was Mount Rushmore. Loved seeing those big rock heads. A little afraid they’d tumble down on us, but I tend to pick up on Mom and Dad’s anxiety and they didn’t act near as scared as when they do when they detect the first whiff of skunk.

What would your pet say if they could talk?

Also, I'm guest posting about being 14 over at Heather Sunseri's today. So grateful, Heather!