Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Delightful Distractions!

As I said last week, my two young grandsons are visiting.  Their mom and dad too.

It's lots of fun having them around.  The kids, one almost 4 and the other almost 3, are full of energy and ideas.  They want to play nearly all the time when they're awake. Yesterday, I got locked into the kitchen "forever" at one point, or so I was told.  Toys have a habit of littering nearly the entire floor as they build unidentifiable structures out of Lego blocks and empty soup containers and more.

Guess how much work I'm getting done.  Yes, I have naptime to myself but I can't really dig into anything that requires ongoing attention.  Instead, I'm working on plotting and some new ideas-- a good thing but not as productive as usual.

My husband amused the guys with some toy indoor drones while I hid away for a short while to write this post. 

And this morning I have to attend an online seminar for one of my publishers, Harlequin Nocturne.  I've made sure the adults in the household are aware of my temporary disappearance.

The only problem is that the visit is short, as they all tend to be.  They're leaving later today to return home to Indiana

Yes, I know, I'll be able to dig right in and start working again on the projects I've had to set temporarily aside.

But you can be sure my mind will still be on having the little guys around and how much fun it was--no matter how much time and energy they took!

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Tower of Flowers

I got the “tower of flowers” done this past weekend, but at a cost.  I fell – twice.  Hurt my tailbone the first time and scraped one hand and my left knee (it would be the good one) the second.  So I’m using the walker more and my cane less until my confidence comes back and my balance improves.  And yes, I’ve been walking with just a cane for short distances.  Progress, progress!

On the other hand, the tower came out beautifully.  It consists of a metal stem about four feet long attacked to a three-edged flange you plant in a big pot.  Then you put pots up, tilting them side to side.  Here’s what it looks like.  The lower flowers are vining geraniums, so they’ll drape over the pots and look wonderful, the upper two are petunias, and they'll drape also.  The greenery on the bottom is a perennial (but I’ll use it as an annual) flowering thyme that gets pink blossoms in a thick blanket all over it.  I’ll take more pictures as summer progresses.  The round knobby things are glass bowls with stems I fill with water and stick in the dirt so there is a constant little trickle of water to the plants.  Garden catalogs carry them.

Today a friend is coming over to help me dig out my office.  The paper is stacked a foot and more high all over the place and it’s finally gotten to where even I can’t stand it.  I don’t know why I can’t do this on my own but when she is there to help we get it done quickly and efficiently.

And more slowly than I’d like, my muse is coming back to life.  I’ve started on a new scene where Rafael consults with Betsy over his suspicions that the wedding planner is not playing fair.  (If only he knew.)

Meanwhile the weather has turned nice and life is looking much better than when all this started.

Friday, May 20, 2016

A Place Holder Until Next Week

It is late and I am exhausted. It has been a difficult weak and I don't have the energy to write about it. I will tell all next week. In the meantime, make the most of every moment because you never know what's around the corner.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Family, Dogs and Murder


Life’s pathway rarely takes us where we anticipate. When I received my Chemical Engineering degree at age twenty-two, I never dreamed that I’d write one book, let alone a series.  When I joined Microsoft at age thirty, I hadn’t taken a single yoga class.  Who could have guessed that by age fifty I’d own a yoga studio and write murder mysteries?
But from the age of five, I knew I’d someday own a German shepherd. At least a decade before I adopted her, I’d already picked out her name: Tasha.
I barely remember the German shepherd my parents owned when I was a toddler. She was far from perfect. She barked, she chased the farm’s cows, and her passion was hunting anything smaller than her.  When Duchess’s hunting skills became more than parents could handle, they re-homed her.  I was heartbroken. I vowed that I would someday own a German shepherd of my very own. One no one could give away.
Fast forward twenty-five years. I started dating the man who would eventually become my husband. Our three-year road to commitment was rocky, to say the least, and it involved many compromises.  I was steadfast on only one thing: I wanted a family.  And in my mind, family meant a German shepherd.
My now-husband pretended to cave in, in spite of his allergies to furry creatures of all kinds. Eight years of marriage and one memorable fight later, he finally agreed: he owed me a dog. I tried to do everything “right.” I faithfully studied books about German shepherds and enrolled in multiple dog training classes.  I vowed to have a happy, healthy dog—the paragon of good doggy behavior.
I should have known I was in for trouble the day Tasha chewed up my dog training books.
Cursed with a variety of illnesses and a fearful temperament, Tasha will never be the poster child for German shepherd health and behavior. Still, she’s been the perfect dog for me. She’s taught me patience, creativity, and the need to sometimes give up control. Most of all, she’s taught me that I can receive—and give—love without condition.  I’m a much better person because of Tasha.  She is almost twelve in a breed with a ten-to-twelve-year lifespan, so I probably won’t have her much longer. But I cherish each and every day.
Not surprisingly, my mysteries revolve around Kate, a yoga teacher with a German shepherd sidekick named Bella. Bella shares some of Tasha’s issues.  She’s huge, often unruly, and smarter than most people I know. She sometimes gets Kate into trouble, sometimes saves her from it.  But ultimately, she’s the love of Kate’s life, just as Tasha is mine.
We should all be so lucky.
Tracy Weber
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