King of Pop VS King of Rock 'n' Roll

Not sure how many out there LOVED Elvis the way my mother did.
She played his 'records' on an old stereo system and sang his tunes
every chance she got. Before I got my own stereo at the ripe age of
twelve, I didn't know other singers existed. LOL
To say she loved Elvis is cutting her infatuation with the man short.
When she was sick and dying of pancreatic cancer, I was fortunate enough
to spend the last week of her life at her side. Every morning when I arrived
she would tell me that she kept hearing Elvis singing to her at night.Towards
the end of the week, she'd had enough and asked me to find the source and turn
it off. But I didn't hear it. I thought the pain meds made her hallucinate so
I simply soothed her soul by saying I'd find it and turn it off. Of course, I
didn't because I didn't hear it. The night she died, I left her room and stood
outside with my family until a nurse called me back in to retrieve her things.
When I entered the MICU, I froze. Out of one of the rooms near her, I heard
Elvis. It was low but since there were no other background noises I could hear it.
I started laughing and crying at the same time. She wasn't crazy on meds, she actually was hearing Elvis. I have a feeling, she's stalking him in heaven :)

To hear Elvis being compared to a pop star kind of knots my gut.
Sure Michael Jackson was talented, could sing and dance, but Elvis
started it all with the sexy shake of his hips.

Got any great Elvis stories?
I'd love to hear them.
Thanks for sharing,
Tara Nina
www.taranina.com

Happy Father's Day!!!

Happy Father’s Day!!!

I had thought about a few things I could blog about. I could go on and on about my TBR list, or just blab about my personal life, but I decided not to do that.

Why you ask?

Well, because all of that is pretty boring, and besides, it’s FATHER’S DAY!

I don’t think I appreciated my dad that much until I had a child of my own. . .shocker. Suddenly, all those words of wisdom he’d given me over the years seemed much more relevant than they had when I was in my teens.

Once I realized my old man wasn’t the idiot I thought he was when it came to raising children, I started to reconsider some of his other pearls of wisdom. And what do you know? Some of those gems make a lot of sense. For your education, I’ll share some of my favorites.


Never believe what you hear, and only half of what you see.

A crack on the ass never hurt anyone. (I beg to differ. . .)

You may think you can be rude to your mother, but don’t you dare disrespect my wife. (his wife is my mother, they’ve been married for 43 years)

I don’t care what your husband looks like or does for a living as long as he treats you well. (and is a Red Sox fan)

Find a job you love or you’ll be miserable half your waking hours.

Having a lot of money never made anyone healthier or a better person.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. (or in my case, fool me six or seven times and someday I’ll finally learn and dump your ass.)

And my absolute favorite. . .

It’s noon somewhere.

For all you fathers out there, enjoy your day! To all of you who've lost your fathers, I hope some of my dad's gems reminded you of your own dad.

Ari

A week late...

...but not a dollar short. At least, not yet! My apologies for being so long in getting this post up. Life has a funny way of getting in the way sometimes. In fact...let me share with you what my week's been like...

It actually all started on Thursday, June 4th. I'm on my way to my day job, just as I have been for the past twenty-five years. About a year ago I started taking a different route as I was pretty bored with the orginal one (Boring? Twenty-three years traveling the same route day in and day out becomes mind-numbing!). The sun had just peeked over the horizon to my left, the sky was cloudless and all was right with the world.

...Until my car hit something and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. Not until I saw the deer flying threw the air did I realize what I'd hit. My car stalled (I drive a standard) and I shook for several seconds as I fished my cellphone out of my pocket and debated, "Do I call my husband first or 911? Or a tow truck? Triple A? I can't remember!"

Now, I'm not usually a dither-er, but this particular time, I just couldn't think. Yes, I said "this particular time." You see, in these twenty-five years of traveling thirty miles to work and thirty miles home every day, this is the third deer I've managed to slay. In fact, Deerslayer is now the official name of my car at the shop, since two of those deer I've gotten with this car.

Unfortunately, this is the first deer I've hit that wasn't killed on impact. His back leg was broken and he crawled to the edge of the road and fell into the ditch. He couldn't get out the other side and I felt terrible. I'm not a gun owner and am not used to gunshots, so it wasn't fun asking the sheriff who came to go put the deer out of it's misery. But I knew it was for the best and I turned my back and didn't watch. Even though I was ready for it, I still jumped when the gun went off.

As for my car, we thought it might end up being totaled, but since the airbags didn't go off...which, by the way, I'm of a mixed mind about. I mean, I'm glad they didn't go off as I'm not tall and have the seat fairly close to the steering wheel so I can reach the pedals. If it had gone off I'd have ended up with a broken nose and smashed glasses. On the other hand...if they don't go off when I hit a deer broadside...will they EVER go off????

Anyway, since the airbags didn't deploy, they didn't have to total the car. It did, however, take them the week to repair. The collision shop did a great job (you can't tell it was ever in an accident), but that meant I had no car for a whole week. An entire week of begging a ride from someone in a neighboring town who had to go out of her way to pick me up and take me home every day. An entire week of juggling schedules so four people could share one car (I love the fact that both my kids are at the driving or learning-to-drive stage of their lives. Now if only they could afford their OWN cars!). An entire week of having my writing schedule totally thrown out of whack.

...and that's my excuse for not posting when I was supposed to. I wasn't hurt or in shock or anything like that. Just a case of real life getting in the way of good intentions.

Till next time...play safe!
Diana

watch this space!

I spent the weekend at the cabin relaxing instead of creating the blog post I was supposed to be writing...mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa (and with that, I reveal my own religious upbringing! Nikki's not the only one with antiquity and tradition in her background!).

Anyway...I promise a post by tomorrow evening! I'll be witty and pithy and clever and...

...maybe I'd better stop at I promise a post by tomorrow evening.

:) Play safe!

Diana

Electronic violation

It had been my intent to blog this week about the beautiful sunny weekend. It's been a perfect sunny 25 degrees celsius since Friday and in Scotland this is an event worth celebrating. I went to the beach twice and took my dog for a drive along our lovely coast. However yesterday there was a cloud ruining my fun. A telephone call from my credit card company asking me if I had just spent almost $600 in a Walmart in America a few moments ago. Sitting in my car in Scotland my heart sank along with the sunset I had been watching. After a run of security questions my credit card company told me it was all fine. They had cancelled the card, I wouldn't be charged for the false transactions and they would have a new card sent to me in a few days. Really all it will cost me is the inconvenience of changing any charges set up for the old card over to the new one.
So why do I still feel angry and violated?

I am angry that right now someone is sitting enjoying $600 worth of stolen goods and will very likely never pay for it. I am angry that someone took the trust I gave them by using my credit card and violated it by selling my details on to god knows how many other people. I am very glad and thankful to my credit card company for their vigilance which has prevented any more fraudulent use of my card and making this process as easy as possible so far. At the end of the day, it will only be a little inconvenience...

You know you're a Mennonite when...

In keeping with the rather...religious theme of my new release, ESSENTIAL SEDUCTION, and the fact that I've recently started reading a book (A Complicated Kindness) written by a woman who, I swear, has lived at least part of my life as a Mennonite and has now set it to paper...I thought I'd give you all a little glimpse of life as a "Modern Mennonite." i.e. the kind who use electricity and are allowed to wear jeans. It is a past I have thankfully left far behind, but there is no denying it is a part of me. So, here goes...

You know you’re a Mennonite when:

You have learned to laugh politely when someone asks where you parked your buggy. So original. OMG! I can’t contain myself. Ahem. Moving on…

You find elaborate hand stitched quilts to be quite passé. I grew up maneuvering around the quilt frames that were constantly being set up in major living areas in my house. My cousins and I used to make a game out of crawling around under the quilt and batting balls and blocks in a crazy game of “quilt soccer.” Btw, I tried quilting many times. I suck at it.

You have a “potluck kit” ready to go at a moment’s notice, for all those special church basement moments.

You’ve had your feet washed by a relatively casual acquaintance…also in the church basement.

You have drunk grape juice at communion rather than wine, because alcohol is verboten!

You have eaten cook cheese (fermented skim milk that has the consistency of mucous. Actually quite tasty with caraway), straema pie (I have no idea if that’s spelled correctly, but it’s basically applesauce pie) and cream dressing on your iceberg lettuce. Mmmm….and so healthy, too!

You have eaten butter bread dipped in maple syrup rather than flavored oils. (Now that IS nummy!)

You have played card games such as “Rook” or “Dutch Blitz”.

You have debated whether those card games were appropriate to play on a Sunday.

You know what crokinole is.

You have roller skated to the likes of Amy Grant and Petra. Because it’s okay to roller skate to Christian rock, rather than dance to the Devil’s music. (I guess the Christian beat is somehow less corrupting, and you can’t swing your hips as much when you’re on wheels.)

You can swear like a sailor…only in Pennsylvania Dutch.

I could go on and on... but I'll leave it at that! Does anyone share any of these little idiosyncracies? Any questions? I'm here to educate!

The Power of Music

I graduated from high school in 1974. (You do the math.) All through high school, I listened to The Beatles, The Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, Bread, Bobby Sherman. (I had SUCH a crush on Bobby Sherman! I even had a huge poster of him taped to the ceiling over my bed.) Yep, I was a pop music junkie. While most of my friends had their radios tuned to country stations (this was Texas, after all), I bebopped around my bedroom to The Partridge Family.

I've always loved music. Any job became easier if I could listen to my favorite songs. When I started writing, music naturally went along with it. The type of music depends on what I'm writing. Sometimes I want to bebop along with those great 70s tunes. Sometimes a movie soundtrack will put me in the exact mood I need. Classical, rock, pop, soft instrumental... It all depends on the scene and the characters.

Imagine a funky bubblegum song playing instead of the "da dum da dum" you expect when Jaws is in the water. Doesn't work at all, does it? It's the same with writing. The music has to be right or the mood is broken.

I write erotic romance for Ellora's Cave and Avon Red. I have to really concentrate when I write a love scene for I want it to be right. I want the reader to *feel* everything my characters are feeling...every sigh, every kiss, every whisk of fingertips over bare skin. Listening to songs with lyrics distracts me during those crucial scenes, so I turn to New Age instrumentals. The strings, harps, and flutes all go along with the sexy mood I'm trying to convey. "Da dum da dum" definitely wouldn't work while writing a love scene.

Does music play an important part in your life? Tell me about it.

Lynn