Six Sentence Sunday 1-23-11

It had been almost a year since her husband was murdered. Kate couldn’t remember much of the funeral or the months that followed. The State had handled the details, knowing police funerals always attracted both the media and large crowds.
Endel’s friends dropped by frequently, especially Joe and his wife, Bonnie, but Kate spent most of her time alone. She still lived in the same house and worked at the Center, but nothing meant much to her anymore. She went through the day on autopilot, almost unaware of everything and everyone around her.

That was an excerpt from my paranormal romance novel 'Passing Whispers'. To purchase the E-book go to Amazon.

Six Sentence Sunday is the lovely idea of Sara Brookes, and it’s a chance for novelists to post on their blogs six sentences from a current work-in-progress, finished novel making the agent-editor rounds, or published masterpiece. A central website, appropriately entitled Six Sentence Sunday, then hosts a set of links, enabling anyone interested to check ‘em out.

Interested writers are encouraged to join the fun. Read the instructions here.

Can You See My Glow From Outer Space?

It's a shame that menopausal hot flashes have no real purpose. I'm not talking about the once-in-a-while, mild, rather uncomfortable feeling of warmth that some lucky women describe. I mean the all-encompassing, "yes, my entire body has been thrust into a pizza oven and I am about to burst into flames" kind of hot flash. I suffer with them numerous times a day, violently distracted from whatever I'm doing in an intense, often frenzied attempt to make it bearable. In between hot flashes, I'm dreading the next one. Many of my menopausal friends have been suffering with them for over 20 years! If no relief is in sight, can we make them WORTHWHILE? I have a few suggestions, if Mother Nature is listening:

1) Hot Flashes could be used to burn off one's sins. Thus, a woman who suffers with a great number of them, or ones of high intensity, could pretty much be assured a place in heaven when her time comes. 

2) If a woman has led a good life, and really doesn't have that many sins to burn off, her hot flashes could be used to burn off the sins of a loved one, or a favorite, but naughty friend.

3) With so many baby boomers suffering with hot flashes, it's a shame no one can figure out a way to capture all that heat and use it to a homeowner's advantage. We could lower our energy bills in the winter, heat pools in the summer and save the environment at the same time.

4) If the intense heat from a hot flash could be channeled and then shot out through the eyes or tips of fingers, menopausal women could sterilize a grandchild's dropped pacifier, dry clean her family's clothes, and steam clean carpets and drapes with a single glance. I'd even be willing to iron wrinkles out the clothes of strangers I met on the street. We could defrost dinner in a matter of seconds and melt chocolate for strawberry dipping or S'more preparation.

5) At the VERY LEAST, we should be able to conjure one up when we need one. Like walking out to the car on a frosty morning. Wouldn't it be nice to enjoy the instant warmth for a change? Eskimo women could keep the igloo toasty. Farmer's wives could hatch little chicks by the dozens. Moms could warm up their children after playing in the snow with just one hug. Aging nurses could warm blood and IV fluids right at the bedside. Sterilize instruments as the surgeon uses them.

I'm sure there must be dozens of uses for hot flashes. Can we find a silver lining to this dark and disturbing cloud? I can't see any danger in pursuing it. I doubt that legions of unbalanced women would get together and plot to destroy the world with a simultaneous hot flash of epic proportion. Besides... the benefits would certainly outweigh the risks.

Alas, I am not a genius or a doctor. My only hope is that maybe some scientist will read this and get inspired. A Nobel Peace Prize may be at stake!

Another Sad Day

My heart is heavy for Congresswoman Giffords and the other people who were shot in Arizona on Saturday. Six were killed. Fourteen wounded. What a senseless tragedy.

Gabe Zimmerman - 30 year old event organizer. Engaged to be married.

Dorwan Stoddard - 76 year old retiree. Active in his church and married to his high school sweetheart.

Christina Taylor Green - 9 years old. She had just been elected to the student council at her school and wanted to meet the Congresswoman in person.

US District Judge John Roll. Survived by his wife, three sons and five grandchildren.

Phyllis Schneck - 79 year old NJ grandmother who had retired in Arizona.

Dorothy Morris - 76 year old retiree. Her husband, George remains in critical condition.

Six lives lost. 14 wounded. Not to mention the devastation Jared Loughner, the 22 year old shooter, brought on his own family.

And it could have been worse. Loughner was attempting to re-load another  magazine when four bystanders wrestled him to the ground. One of those heroes was Patricia Maisch, a 61 year old grandmother. She bravely grabbed the magazine out of the gunman's hands. It was then that three other people were able to tackle him and hold him until police arrived.

We'll probably never know why Loughner committed such an act. Not that it would matter. No reason could ever justify what he did. All we can do is pray.

Excuse me!

Here it is January 7th and I haven't made any progress on my New Year's resolutions.

Some may call them excuses, but I prefer to think of them as reasons.

Knowing I wouldn't want to drag out the exercise equipment every morning, I decided to set up the living room as a little gym and leave the stuff out until I'm slender and toned. I imagined myself jumping out of bed every morning and after a glass of iced tea getting right to work on the stepper. Good plan. But first, I had to take down all my Christmas decorations. The boxes are now stacked and ready to be stored in the basement (it took much longer than I anticipated). However the snow is preventing me from dragging those boxes outside, around the corner and down into my storage closet. Until I can clear out the living room, I can't exercise. That's a reason, not an excuse.

I'm still smoking. I did start back on the Chantix. I can feel it working, and within the next few days, I'm sure I'll stop. A frequent quitter, I can tell you it's much easier to stop when you don't have the urge to smoke.  Once I do, I swear to God, I will NOT start again. This is a reason, not an excuse.

The Diet. Well... I don't have a reason here. I do have an excuse. No sense in dieting when I can't exercise, right? But I will. No rush. I'm sure I'll still be fat tomorrow.

A Wandering Mind

Ever since I entered the Wonderful World of Menopause, I now have the attention span of a gnat.
Most of my days start out with good intentions. "I'm going to take down the Christmas tree today." Okay. I need a box. While looking for the box, I come across a few rolls of wrapping paper, which need to be put away in the closet. Where I find the heating pad I've been looking for. "I should put that beside the bed while I'm thinking of it." I notice my pill bottle on the night table. "Did I take my thyroid med today?" I open the bottle and realize that I only have a few tablets left. "I better order them on-line before I run out." So I sign on and see that a few friends have commented on my FaceBook posts. Kate shared one of my links. Before I can thank her, my attention is drawn to her interesting video about polar bears. When the bear cracks open the spy camera, it reminds me that I never put away the carton of eggs this morning after breakfast. For some reason, when I open the door to the fridge I begin to wonder if I ever paid my electric bill this month. I better check. Back on-line. Oh! Sara shared a link to buy my novel 'Passing Whispers'! Let me click on her and see what she's up to today. Before I do, I notice Lori must have had someone cut in line ahead of her at Wallmart. She's asking everyone what they would do. I should go to Wallmart today. I think I'm out of laundry detergent. Laundry. I better get a load on before I leave. While walking to the hamper  I pass by the Christmas tree. Oh! I never looked to see if I had a box...