Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Red Light Camera Expose

The Big Guy received a red light/camera ticket in the mail last weekend.  There was a clear view of his truck, rear plate and his handsome, unsuspecting face next to the issuing officer's signature.  The violation was a right turn on a red light without the mandatory pause.  Of course, there was his anticipated objection to the severity/accuracy of the accused offense.  However, following instructions to the website listed on the back of the ticket, I pulled up his video spotlighting the intersection and scene of his infraction.  As I expected, there was no evidence of brake lights being applied as he sailed smoothly through the turn.  Days later a coworker shared with me that a friend of hers actually divorced her husband over a red light/camera ticket.  A ticket and subsequent fine is upsetting, but not reasonable grounds to end a marriage.  The camera caught this lady's husband doing more than just misbehaving behind the wheel.  Seated next to him was his girlfriend.  Ouch!  Thinking about it later, I wondered just how often that very situation is repeated.....The recipients of red light camera tickets are unaware that their infraction was captured on video until notice arrives in the mail, same as a private investigator hired to catch evidence of a wayward spouse.   

Saturday, March 23, 2013

The Perfect White Shirt

I am on the quest for the perfect white shirt; a button down, sharply collared, long sleeve, crisp, white shirt.  I have several that I like, but none I would declare perfect.  Before, any special occasion I'll search/shop a rainbow of colors, fabrics and styles, try on and critique what is reflected in the fitting room mirrors, only to be drawn back to the racks of crisp, tailored white shirts.  Friends offer helpful suggestions of stores and brands, but clothing requirements and taste are unique to each individual.  At a little over five feet, ten and a half inches tall, my perfect shirt would have to have arms long enough for the cuffs to sit comfortably at my wrist, in case I decide not to roll them.  Ideally, the shirt tail would hit somewhere in the middle of my rear.  Long enough to leave out if I choose, but not too long in case I decide to tuck it in.  Exceedingly long shirts are reassigned to be used as poolside cover ups.  Nicely tailored or fitted is imperative for the perfect shirt, with adequate room for my chest.  I don't care for the uncomfortable, buttons straining across the boobs look some prefer.  A crisp, sharply defined collar is also essential.  If I ever come across the elusive perfect white shirt, I will buy no less than five.  Then, the quest for the perfect jeans to pair it with begins.

Top's down!

Winter break, spring break, summer  break.....their approach is always perfectly timed.  When I feel I'm at that "breaking" point and need more than a weekend off to take a deep breath, catch up on writing, visit with family, or wash the cobwebs off my windows-it's time for a break.  Welcome spring!

Monday, February 18, 2013

Free ebook final hours!

Todd refuses to recognize the power of his own imagination, until his best friends are in danger.

http://www.amazon.com/Todd-Terrible-Fading-Plague-ebook/dp/B004TAWN16

Friday, February 15, 2013

She's been on my mind. Miss her...

Another beloved family member.  She may not be with us any longer, but her influence and love always is.


A Grandmother’s Greatest Gift


My sons enjoyed the benefits of growing up with two grandmothers. My mother is a typically loving and attentive grandparent. She spoils and fusses over them in all the ways that grandparents are notorious for, but this story is about the boys’ other grandmother; my former mother-in-law.

Grandma Hansen was also loving and generous. Through both of my pregnancies she would accompany me to my doctor appointments, perfectly content to sit in the waiting room with her latest trashy romance novel. For weeks following the birth of my firstborn, there would be a knock at precisely five o’clock each evening, Grandpa Hansen would be on our doorstep with a cardboard box holding the dinner Grandma had made for us. If the boys came down with a bug, another cardboard box with crackers, Jell-O and 7-Up would be promptly delivered. Added to each box was every “Dear Abby” column carefully cut out and folded, that included tips or advice for new mothers.

A trip to the pediatric dentist warranted a mandatory visit to the toy store with Grandma. Her walls were papered with her grandchildren’s pictures and artwork. Nothing was ever removed or replaced she just intermittently added to the mural. Their favorite foods and beverages were routinely restocked in her refrigerator in case they stopped by.

After seven years of marriage and two children, my marriage ended, but my relationship with Grandma Hansen didn’t. After all, she’d been a part of my life for such a long time and as my sons’ Grandmother would always be family. Grandma attended peewee football and later high school football and basketball games. Her pride in her grandsons was apparent to anyone who sat within a ten foot perimeter of her seat in the bleachers.

I called Grandma regularly to say hello and deliver reports on the boys’ upcoming activities and recent antics. She would giggle with wicked delight when I would relay an anecdote about one or both of our roughnecks. Stories of childish nonsense that I’m sure she would have throttled her own kids for. Sometimes she’d make me repeat the story while she took notes, so she could make sure she had it right to repeat later.

When I remarried two years later, there was no resentment towards my new husband; her heart was wide open to the man who became stepfather to her young grandsons. Our wedding anniversary never passed without her best wishes. Her unselfish attitude meant that the boys never felt a divided loyalty. They knew they could share anything without censor. It was one of the greatest gifts she could have given them.

We lost Grandma Hansen a few years ago. She was ninety years old and had grown increasingly frail. During her last year we feared that each visit with her might be the last. We were fortunate to be able to spend time with her before she passed away. She wasn’t able to speak any longer; she just took our hands and held them tight to her heart. Words weren’t necessary. We knew what she was trying to say. We loved her too.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Free ebook today, 2/11

Today is your last chance to download Todd and the Terrible Fading Plague for free!http://www.amazon.com/Todd-Terrible-Fading-Plague-ebook/dp/B004TAWN16