The Griswalds meet the Tool Man

My front door stopped working yesterday.  I know!  It's like it's overworked or anything.  We come in.  We go out.  How hard of a life it that, really?  Apparently harded that we think, because yesterday, my door went on strike. 

 

I'm not a carpenter so please forgive my lack of industry terms here, but the metal peice that extends from the door and moves in and out when you turn the knob stopped turning.  Of course the door was closed at the time, so the door was stuck closed.  We tried to wedge it free, but that didn't work.  We came close to seriously damaging the molding around the door.

 

So, this morning after Church, I finally removed the doorknob thinking that I could then pull the extended mechanism free, but no such luck.  Apparently, that peice is slid in from the outside. 

 

No amount of wedging, shifting, begging, banging or pleading was going to loosen this thing.

 

There was only one thing I could do...  I went into my husband's sanctuary... His Tool Room and found what I believed to be that reciprocating thingy with the blade for cutting metal.  I plugged it in and after several attempts that left me shaking in my Pradas... I won.

 

That's right.  I sliced through that broken doorknob mechanism thingy between my door and the frame like a hot knife through butter.  Okay, so it was more like the Titanic through an ice feild, but the door did open when I was finished.  I was going to have to buy a new doorknob anyway, right?  So, no harm, no foul.

 

I don't know what you're doing this afternoon, but I'm going to Wally World to get a new doorknob before my husband gets home.

 

Hugs,

Marjorie

The Griswalds meet Tool Man Taylor

My front door stopped working yesterday.  I know!  It's like it's overworked or anything.  We come in.  We go out.  How hard of a life it that, really?  Apparently harded that we think, because yesterday, my door went on strike. 

 

I'm not a carpenter so please forgive my lack of industry terms here, but the metal peice that extends from the door and moves in and out when you turn the knob stopped turning.  Of course the door was closed at the time, so the door was stuck closed.  We tried to wedge it free, but that didn't work.  We came close to seriously damaging the molding around the door.

 

So, this morning after Church, I finally removed the doorknob thinking that I could then pull the extended mechanism free, but no such luck.  Apparently, that peice is slid in from the outside. 

 

No amount of wedging, shifting, begging, banging or pleading was going to loosen this thing.

 

There was only one thing I could do...  I went into my husband's sanctuary... His Tool Room and found what I believed to be that reciprocating thingy with the blade for cutting metal.  I plugged it in and after several attempts that left me shaking in my Pradas... I won.

 

That's right.  I sliced through that broken doorknob mechanism thingy between my door and the frame like a hot knife through butter.  Okay, so it was more like the Titanic through an ice feild, but the door did open when I was finished.  I was going to have to buy a new doorknob anyway, right?  So, no harm, no foul.

 

I don't know what you're doing this afternoon, but I'm going to Wally World to get a new doorknob before my husband gets home.

 

Hugs,

Marjorie

And the wheels turn ...

Or they don't, depending on who's driving.

 

Yesterday, my 17-year-old daughter wrecked my car.  Now, in her defense, the sun was glaring in her eyes something feirce and the accident occured at an intersection that has been begging for a stop sign or an accident for years.  But, she also cut the corner (something very easy to do at that particular intersection) and I've told her not to cut that corner more times than I can count.

 

So, my beautiful 99 LeSabre has no front end.  Okay, it has half a front end, but one side is so beat up, we can't even open the driver's side door all the way.

 

It got me to thinking though, about how precious we all are.  Especially our children.  See, she was on her way to choir practice in the morning so she could learn the music for a funeral that afternoon.  She just started singing with the choir and this was supposed to be her first practice.  So, when she left the house, I was in the kitchen with her sister looking over a homeschooling assignment.  Staci called her goodbyes from the front landing and we both answered her.  "I love you!"  "I love you too.  Be careful!"

 

Same old, same old. 

 

But what if the accident hadn't been a really slow speed collision?  What if she'd been hurt?  Heaven forbid, what if it had been even worse?  What if the last things I ever said to my daughter were, "I-love-you-be-careful?"  Recited like a script or an obligation...

 

So, here is a mission for today.  I know I'm going to try it and see how it feels.  Speak to those you love from your heart to their heart instead of from your lips to their ears.  Look them in the eye when you say goodbye, hello or I love you.  Mean it more today than you did yesterday and more tomorrow than you did today.  Memorize their eyes.

 

That's your challenge.

 

If you feel like it, post a comment here or email me to let me know how it felt.  I'd sure hate to think the only reason my daughter had an accident was to increase my insurance rates and bring a ton of stress down on her poor mother.  I'm much happier knowing it happened because her poor mother needed a wake up call.

 

Hugs,
Marjorie

 

I'm back!

*whew*  That was a close one.

 

Today was my deadline for turning in edits on The Lighthorseman and I'm happy to say that I did it.  I almost didn't, however, because my dog ate my homework.

 

No, really.  I'm serious.  The new puppy chewed through the power cord on my laptop and I had to find one I could borrow in order to pull the manuscript out of this little black box and email it to my editor.  Thankfully, I did find one and was able to meet my deadline.  So, like I said . . . "whew".

 

Now that I've been through two rounds of edits, I think I've determined a couple of things about myself.

 

I, have, no, idea, how, to, use, commas.

 

I have serious comma issues.  I put them where they don't belong and I forget to use them when I should.  Most of my edits in both books consisted of moving commas from one part of the sentence to the other. 

 

I also need to utilize my thesaurus more.  Most of the wonderful writers I've met over the past couple of years have stated plainly that we, as a species, have 'trigger' words that stick with us for the length of the manuscript.  These are words that we fall in love with for one reason or another and we keep using them, over and over and over again.  I think I may have taken this to a new level as I've sworn a vow to no longer use about five words in the English language.  Ever.

 

Finally, I want to include a special thanks to my editor in this post.  Without her caustic wit and oh-so-sensible commentary, the book wouldn't be nearly as good.  So, to my editor and all editors, the reader in me thanks you and the writer in me worships you. 

 

That's about it for now.  I'm going to switch gears and get back on the spicy story I was writing before my edits came in.  Hopefully, I can have that wrapped up by the end of the month.  Nanowrimo startes November 1 (November is National Novel Writing Month -- NaNoWriMo) and I want to start Dawn of Redemption and have it done by the end of November.  Wow... 90K words in a month.  Is it possible?  We'll see.  Be sure to check back for updates and I'll let you know how it goes.

 

Hugs,

Marjorie

 

Let the Games Begin

We are now in possession of our brand new, 9-week old South African Boerboel female, Select's Lady of Lyonesse.  You can see pictures here:  http://www.marjoriejones.com/dogshome/index.html .  She's a super sweetie and the spitting image of her pops, Dopper Madala. 

 

Puppies are so much fun and they smell sooo good.  I love that puppy smell.  Lea is eager to learn and thanks to the superior breeding standards and attention to detail of Cammie (the owner of Select Boerbeol's where Lea was whelped) she is already crate trained and practically housebroken. 

 

Lea is a black and tan (aka Fawn) colored Mastiff and we'll be breeding her to Pistol Pete in a couple of years.  Pete is Brindle, so we'll expect a mixture of pups.  In the meantime, I'm watching my toes (Lea has really sharp little teeth lol) and we're having a great time.

 

Also, I'm deep into edits for The Lighthorseman and as soon as I post this, I'll be getting back to work on it.  My next blog entry, when I'm finished with edits and I've turned them in, will be titled "What I love about my editor."  Things like her sense of humor and how it's quite obvious that the further she read into the manuscript, the more pressure she applied to her red pen when she made her comments.  Ouch.

 

Until next time,

Marjorie

Back from the wilds of Utah ...

With sanity intact. Sort of.

I came home to find my edits for The Lighthorseman on my doorstep, so truth be told, I've been home all week. We had a wonderful time in the mountains. The first night, it rained and the sounds of the wind through the trees was amazing. Later in the week, everything dried out and the nights were deathly quiet. Like spoooky quiet. My poor husband couldn't sleep a wink because there was no noise.

So, I come home to my edits. Not too bad, really. I've spent a couple of days moving commas from one part of a sentence to another. I do not get along with commas apparently.

But I'm enjoying myself! I love this whole writing professionally thing. People are paying me to move those commas and that makes it all worth while. Of course, it was worth while to write before I was published, too. I wrote for myself and some friends. But I never 'had' to move a comma.

Oh... we're picking up our new puppy on Friday evening. Her name is Lady of Lyonesse and we can't wait. She's a 9 week old South African Boerboel Mastiff. Eventually she'll be huge, but right now she's about 14 lbs. She'll ride home on my lap, I'm sure, and my legs will be numb from the trip, but I don't care. I love this breed.

Lea (as we'll call her) is our second. Our first is a male/stud named Pistol Pete. Right now he's lounging on my living room floor - his meaty, black jowls contrasting with my champagne colored carpeting. He's a brindle, so he matches the carpet almost perfectly. And he's really sweet, too. Unless he doesn't know you and then he growls and barks and is really skeery.

I need to get back to those commas... I mean, my edits. I'll write again soon.

Hugs,
Marjorie