(Book club fiction; humorous family drama)

When gifted dog trainer Rosemary Gordon learns her father is dying, she interrupts plans for a new business and reunites with her annoying childhood companion, a not-so-imaginary Grim Reaper. With help from this smug and sarcastic Angel of Death, Rosemary navigates heart devices, hospice, and bittersweet goodbyes.

Seeking publication.

Written on September 29th, 2017 , Uncategorized

What do searching for an agent, and online dating have in common? More than you think.

After emailing with a good friend (I’ll call her “Jane”) about her latest fiascos with men she had met online, I soon received an email from an agent I had queried a few months ago. I took a deep breath and double clicked the message. The word “unfortunately” leapt out at me; no request for a manuscript includes that word.

Not being a stranger to literary rejection, I filed the form letter in my email Submissions folder. After a moment, I opened it back up and read it again.

Hmm, Jane should send this to that guy she went out with last night.
I hit the FWD key and made a few revisions (in bold) before sending it to her:

“Thanks so much for being in touch. You have a fun concept here. Unfortunately, it is you are a bit too similar to a few of our other projects men I have dated, and I am unable to offer you representation another date at this time. Best of luck finding the right home for your work woman. Best wishes, Jane”

Jane emailed back that she had already blocked him because of his bad behavior. Still, she appreciated the sentiment—especially since I was the one who dragged her onto the dating website.

Later that month, I received a few more rejection letters…and Jane met a few more incompatible men. I recycled each agent’s response, and sent them off to Jane with a smile:

“Thank you for sharing your work profile with me. Unfortunately, I feel that in today’s market, I cannot take on projects date men unless I feel strongly about them. I’m sorry to say that it didn’t happen with this one. This, of course, is just my opinion and others may feel differently. I wish you the best of luck with all your publishing dating endeavors. Sincerely, Jane”

And:

“I am sorry not to invite you to submit your manuscript phone number or to offer to represent date you. The material just didn’t grab me, and you deserve an unequivocally enthusiastic agent woman as your advocate mate. I wish you the best of luck elsewhere. Regards, Jane”

I had a feeling of accomplishment, and a sense of satisfaction for my work (albeit not much work was needed). I dug into my Submissions folder, and took out letters I had received before the advent of Jane’s online dating.

What a wealth of material! Jane would never have to sit, thumbs frozen in position over her phone, wondering what in the world to text and not hurt someone’s feelings. I had an unending source of “It’s not you—it’s me” just waiting to be used.

Imagine my delight when I found these gems and promptly shot them off to Jane when one guy hadn’t asked her a single thing about herself until she put on her coat to leave after an hour of conversation:

“Best of luck with this project women and all your endeavors. Due to the volume of queries matches and submissions emails I receive, I’m unable to provide a personal evaluation of your query behavior and/or further explanation of my decision. Warmly, Jane”

And:

“There was much to enjoy and admire in your fantasy adventure, however at the end of the day I didn’t find myself falling in love with your stories in the way that I had hoped and would ultimately need in order to take this on date you. Most cordially, Jane”

When Jane had a man send her a nasty email because she had been busy with work and had not been communicating constantly after one date, I flexed my typing fingers and sent her these snippets from my stash:

“Thank you for thinking of me, but this isn’t quite right for my list. I’ll step aside and wish you the best as you submit to other agents unsuspecting women. Best of luck, Jane”

And

“My opinion is entirely subjective and other agents inexperienced women may feel differently. I encourage you to query date widely, as you never know who will feel that ‘spark’ for your book personality as is currently stands. Jane”

Please note that I am not poking fun at agents. Quite the opposite. I would much rather be a writer sending out queries than an agent getting fifty or more emails a day (with the majority being addressed to “Dear Agent”) from writers who didn’t bother to note that the agent doesn’t rep erotica, but children’s stories.

So for those of us querying agents / dating online / job hunting / (and this is Nashville so I can’t forget trying to get a record deal)—hang in there. Have fun with it. Know that the right agent / soul mate / employer / record label is out there. It just isn’t the right time yet. But if we keep improving our craft / resume / personal hygiene, it will happen.

On that note, I leave you with one last bit of (borrowed) advice:

“Because this business is so subjective and opinions vary widely, we recommend that you pursue other agents / boy or girlfriends / employers / etc. After all, it just takes one ‘yes’ to find the right match.”

Written on February 7th, 2014 , Uncategorized Tags: , , , ,

Lovely Hospice doctor with Dad

Dad passed away on his 80th birthday. He checked into the Nashville Hospice facility on Thursday (make that walked to his room, somehow, not accepting a wheelchair) and curled up on his bed to entertain the staff as they came in to check on him. The next afternoon, they disconnected his pacemaker / defibrillator and in less than 3 hours, he passed away naturally (and more peacefully than we could have ever hoped).

Always the storyteller

He needed very little medication—he was so ready to go. His heart went up to 80 beats per minute as soon as he was free of the device, and his rate stayed around 110 to wear itself out, I suppose, (much like Dad would do on his walks over the years). Apparently people’s heart rates usually go way down in this situation, not up. Very Dad-like.

On one of his trips to get up and go to the bathroom (yes, he was determined to keep using the toilet and not a urinal), he looked at my husband Tim in the recliner next to him and said very seriously, “Oh, #%!@, I’m not dead.” How many times he has woken up from a nap and said that…

When it was time for Dad to pass away, we saw his face as he gazed up at whatever came to get him, or whatever he saw. It was a look of awe and amazement that no one could make without seeing something so unimaginably beautiful and not of this world. He closed his eyes and a few minutes later, he was gone. It was a blessing to see and feel—Dad getting what he had wished for for so long.

I knew it was the first night of the full moon, but did not know there would be a partial lunar eclipse (we would only see a slight shadow). “The entire duration of the eclipse will be 4 hours and 10 minutes, commencing at 5:45 p.m. EDT.” Dad passed away at 5:35 p.m. central time, an hour after the start of this lunar eclipse. Tim and I had said on the night he passed that we felt like there was a window of time Dad sensed and felt the need to go during it. We assumed it was just his birthday, but maybe he felt something more.

Ceremonial fireside alter

We built a ceremonial fire for Dad on Sunday in the fire pit in our backyard with a nice alter of symbolic items he would find meaningful: one of Dad’s beloved spiderman figures (a symbol of doing good and helping others); a Christian cross from Ireland; a prayer wheel from Bhutan; a Hindu prayer necklace from the Kauai monastery made from the seeds (called “tears of God”) from their sacred rudraksha trees; Yoda to symbolize the force connecting us all; acorn from our yard; rain stick; and pictures of his mother, brother and our aunt Phyllis who have passed.

My friend Cindy came by with “ceremonial wine” and sang Amazing Grace, which Dad loved. Next time, she’ll sing another of his favorites—Elvis’s, I Did It My Way.

Yes, Dad, you certainly did.

Written on October 22nd, 2013 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,

This month the Crossroads Campus crew taught teenagers how to clicker train dogs, but with one twist: WE were the dogs.

Reward for a job well done--playtime with a pit puppy, Evie

Reward for a job well done–playtime with a pit puppy, Evie

In small groups, each of us took turns being in the vulnerable position of entering the room without any idea what the others wanted us to do. (And no guys, “Shave your head!” is not an option.)

These young men always light up when the dogs come to play, but this dogless exercise brought out the little kid in everyone as we became miniature chihuahua / yorkie / pit bull mixes (these guys are creative) who had to use the TV remote, or hounds who had to scratch their long floppy ears.

Evie loving all the attention

Evie loving all the attention

What a way to get into a dog’s mind of how it must feel to hear cues and not know what humans want. We crawled around, sniffed, rolled over, and hopped on furniture. Any movement toward what the others wanted “the dog” to do would get a click and then a treat. One click, guys…not four or five :). They quickly got the hang of both clicker training and how patient and smart animals are as they learn our language.

Kudos to Julie Farris for her guidance and wonderful ideas, and many thanks to these young men for their trust as they go along with whatever ideas we adults bring to them on our Dog Day visits. This time, we all came away with a better understanding of how our four-legged friends must feel when we speak human gibberish and expect them to understand.

(Photos courtesy of Crossroads Campus)

Written on April 23rd, 2013 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,

As a kid, I dug grass away from our water meter to see what might be hidden underneath the rusty metal lid. Last week it was our plumber’s turn. He cut off the water to fix a leak in the kitchen and a minute later came in the front door and said in his serious thick Ukrainian accent, “You have a black widow spider.”

Instantly I was 8-years-old and followed him and his flashlight outside to the dark cavern of the water meter to scoop the spider out with a stick before it got away (and perhaps closer to the house). Its legs curled up as it tried to play dead on the grass, revealing two red markings on its belly including a perfect red hourglass—like artwork made with a tiny paintbrush.

As the plumber and I knelt there like two elementary school kids, the teenager next door pulled up in front of the house. An invitation to come see the spider got a quick, “Um, no thanks.” Maybe at some point we gravitate back to the wonders of our childhood. During the teen years…apparently not.

I found a glass bottle and cut a slice in the metal lid before wondering just how narrow a slit that spider could crawl through. I slid our 8-legged guest into the container and shut it while the spider was still playing possum. It could hang out in the front yard until I knew what to do with the cool but seriously creepy creature.

A web search (the electronic kind) of black widows said we had a female, poisonous to children and the elderly (not that she was all that great for adults) yet non-aggressive. But if you accidentally brush against one…well, you’ll know it later.

I read my Animal Medicine book and saw a spider’s message is: CREATE. Whoa. Tomorrow we would do just that at a 3-day writing workshop on revision.Flyer

One of the many mantras of revising is: “Kill your darlings.” Who does that more than a female black widow who devours her companions at the end of a date? With about 25 writers at the retreat, there would be lots of creating (and carnage of our manuscripts).

When my husband got home, I led him to the glass bottle. I’ll leave out his response since I write for middle-graders. He is a gentle soul so I asked his advice on what to do and got an immediate, “she’s not staying here” like the spider is some obnoxious old friend breezing through town.

Next I thought about emailing a friend visiting Bhutan that week. Those enlightened souls are the epitome of “do not harm.” Then I decided she might have better things to do there than interrogate monks about arthropods.

An hour later, I drove down the road with a spider in the cup holder. A dead end about a half a mile away from any houses would be her new home. Once there, I opened the lid and swung my arm out toward the field to set her free. This would have been an inspirational moment had I not leapt around as if on fire, wondering if the breeze had blown her onto my clothes. Maybe wearing a black shirt and sweatpants to fling a poisonous spider into the wind isn’t a good idea.

Back home, I asked my husband to see if I had anything on me. “You mean, like a spider!” he asked. I shrugged. “I’m sure she’s in the field…it’s just for my peace of mind.” (And the fact that I’d used his car.)

Ready to "kill our darlings"

Ready to “kill our darlings”

As I got ready for the writing workshop, I decided the spider’s message for the retreat may not just be the mantra, “kill your darlings” but also to devour that which no longer serves us so we can give birth to new life. I’m referring to your manuscripts here, not your dates. We’ll leave that to the black widow.

P.S. Oh, and let me know if you need a good plumber 🙂

(Photos courtesy of Courtney Stevens Potter and the SCBWI Midsouth website).

“Daddy, why are they calling dogs like me dangerous?”

NOTE: As of March 19th, this bill has been withdrawn :)! Thanks to all the dog lovers out there who made that possible! Since awareness of breed specific legislation is important, I am leaving the blog post from yesterday:

This week (March 20th), lawmakers in Tennessee will decide if they can require owners of a specific breed to carry $25,000 worth of insurance on their dog. Judging others based on appearance is simply a fancy way of saying discrimination. When we think of people being stereotyped by the physical characteristics they brought with them when they were born, we cringe. But now they are teaching the concept of discrimination through dogs.

Week 2 with Mia

Tennessee House Bill 621 has tossed in an amendment that labels all pit bulls as “dangerous.” What breeds will be next? shepherds? chows? dobermans? Since most of us do not have a family tree of our pet’s linage (nor do we do the expensive DNA testing) this leaves us with a lot of guessing on what they are.

Years ago, without intending to, I became a person who adopts dogs others have cast out. We had a beagle mix whose former owner named “Hunter.” They gave him to me since he was not what they wanted and thus had been a neighborhood stray for two years. This little guy enjoyed rolling in the dead as much as any dog, but he never harmed a furry or feathered creature that we ever saw. Squirrels dashed around our yard with no fear of Hunter, who would sniff along as they gathered their dinner.

Little Hunter

When the cicadas came up out of the ground a few years ago, he would crunch on the dead ones, but those on the ground still alive, he would simply sit and listen to their song as if meditating. The last two days of his life, a cicada got inside our patio and sat near Hunter’s bed, making its familiar noise for a not-your-typical beagle. He defied the label that society (and even his own name) stuck on him.

This beagle’s lack of sticking by his stereotypes always made me smile, but now, our other dog is being stuck with labels that could affect legislation (and the adoptability of an entire breed).

Six months after little Hunter died at age 16, we went in search of another all-American-mutt. Petfinder.com led us to a dog who had been tossed around and returned for two years. Her photo showed a scared but sweet face. The rescue organization said she was a good match for our blind elderly dog so we did a meet and greet with them where they pretty much sniffed and then ignored each other.

After adopting Mia, an animal expert friend came over with her own dog and determined that Mia (a pit bull-boxer-basenji mix) had been severely abused at an early age, confirming what we had already thought based on her behavior. No one would blame this dog for not trusting humans, but luckily for us, she did. I’ve never seen a more snugly creature. She curls up next to us like a cuddly toddler and has come a long way in seeing that she does not always have to bark to keep new people at a distance, but can let them love her.

Day 1 with Obi Wan

And then there is our other dog Obi Wan, a chow-shepherd mix who exudes the comfort and calmness of a true Jedi Knight. At only 3-months-old, he used his mind trick skills to quickly have me open the car door where he jumped in as if he already knew the way home. He was quite happy for a dog that had been dumped out of a truck earlier that day, according to the nice young man that had been caring for him outside a store. When I brought home this begging-for-a-bath dog, I did not know that 12 years later, he could be next on the list of breeds being legally considered “a dangerous or vicious dog” like his adopted sister.

I never intended to adopt these types of dogs, but now that we have them, I’ve taken up a torch that has been handed off by people who spend countless volunteer hours to bring their misunderstood pets (many certified as Canine Good Citizens by the American Kennel Club program) out into the community to shine the light of truth on breed stereotypes, mainly pit bulls.

And what do they get in return? Breed specific legislation.

Day 12 with Mia

Even though pit bulls (see Staffordshire Bull Terrier) are ranked higher in temperament testing than the average dog—passing 90.7% of the time vs. saint bernards at 84.6 (per the American Temperament Test Society)—pit bulls are one step away from costing responsible owners $25,000 worth of insurance coverage for “…harboring a dangerous breed.”

As a certified dog trainer, the big smile of a pit bull brings out my baby-talking voice: “Who is a sweet baby? You are. Yes, you are.” (Insert kissing noises here.)

Do not stereotype us

So why not legislate against dangerous owners like dog fighters, or those who chain their dogs up outside and torment them so they will be “good guard dogs,” or those who let their dogs roam free to snarl and snap at anyone passing by? (We get this in our neighborhood from dogs not considered “dangerous” so they are left for my leashed pitty-mix and me to deal with.) Trust me, dog fighting ring leaders will not be rushing out to insure their sixty or so dogs, however, responsible owners will be obligated to do so, and others just won’t adopt them all due to cost of insurance.

If you want your voice to be heard on this issue, you can email the sponsor of the bill and those voting on it this week. Here is the information to politely ask these representatives to vote NO on HB621:

 

“These are not the dog owners you are looking for.”

Sponsor of the bill: Brenda Gilmore at rep.brenda.gilmore@capitol.tn.gov
Ron Lollar, Chair (Shelby) rep.ron.lollar@capitol.tn.gov
Curtis Halford (Gibson, Carroll) rep.curtis.halford@capitol.tn.gov
Andy Holt (Weakley, Obion, Carroll) rep.andy.holt@capitol.tn.gov
Judd Matheny (Coffee, Warren) rep.judd.matheny@capitol.tn.gov
Billy Spivey (Franklin, Lincoln, Marion, Marshall) rep.billy.spivey@capitol.tn.gov
John Tidwell (Houston, Humphreys, Montgomery) rep.john.tidwell@capitol.tn.gov
Ron Travis (Bledsoe, Roane, Sequatchie, Rhea) rep.ron.travis@capitol.tn.gov

Also thank them for their time and consideration on this issue.

Our new neighbor

Last week we had a visitor, one I did not think we would ever see again. It came in the form of a pure white squirrel.

“I know I left it here.”

Two months ago, this creature bounced around our backyard while I made my breakfast. At first, I thought it was a rabbit and was amazed at how white the fur was on a muddy day. But then the animal swished its long fluffy tail and ran up the tree. In complete awe of the squirrel that looked as if it had been dipped in snow, I wasn’t sure what to do. Stand and appreciate it, or rush for my camera?

I thought about the symbolic (animal totem) meaning of squirrel. Then I remembered the fully charged battery in my Nikon.

Symbolism could wait until I got my zoom lens.

“Really? More photos?”

I noticed the other squirrels ran from the white one like rats leaving a sinking ship. Unlike the obnoxious human (me) in her bedroom slippers in the mud, they wanted to keep a good distance.

But now the other squirrels seemed to be okay with their bright buddy. Some even played chase with it up and down the trees. Maybe over the last two months they saw that this squirrel was no different than they were, except easier to spot (and stalked by the human with bad morning-hair).

“Some privacy please”

After googling white squirrels (that’s just fun to say), I found they are indeed rare because of low occurrence and their beautiful coat. See The Wild Classroom.

Unlike the lovely brown squirrels who blend in with their environment, this glow-in-the-dark mammal might as well have a lighthouse beacon on its back for hungry hawks and other birds of prey. Because of that, they don’t have a long lifespan and therefore do not leave behind as many cute babies to carry the gene.

I realized that this precious creature will not grace our backyard for years to come like so many other squirrels (including the one that ran in the doggie door and made my husband scream like a 5-yr-old girl).

Crow totem meets new squirrel

Like winter snow, this unusual squirrel appeared out of nowhere, making the landscape seem more alive, only to fade away as quickly as it came (that is, if you live in the South).

So what is my point in this squirrel appreciation post? I suppose to step back and appreciate differences when we see them and maybe even wonder why they offer us a different view than we are used to seeing in our own backyard.

Written on March 15th, 2013 , Uncategorized Tags: ,

“Why am I eating an hour early?”

The spring forward weekend reminds me that our middle Tennessee winter—the brief period of darker days and searching for a glove you lost last year—is close to an end. As humans, we often try to fight the cold months of nature and curse its bone chilling winds while wishing for sandals and sun. (I am firmly planted in this population.) But if we follow the seasons and flow with them, we can adapt just as the animals do.

I use myself as an example since friends and family aren’t fond of my using them. (Oh, wait, I’ll just share one photo of Dad, flowing with the seasons by digging out all of his superhero underwear each year at the first sign of spring.)

Dad’s “Welcome Spring” wardrobe

When the cold weather comes, I ramble indoors like a bear to a cave, snuggling in deep to create a new story (insert your own project of choice here). I curl up into the plot and hear the characters’ innermost thoughts inside that hollow cavern. Their truths hover all around me like a warm fire, keeping out the cold of the unknown…what will happen next? Whispers echo from faraway places, luring me into the story. Some characters stick to the page. Others haunt my mind and spill out conversations at any time of day, or night. I’ve asked them to please hold their inspirational thoughts when it is freezing cold and I’ve just climbed into a warm bed, or while I am doing 70 mph on the interstate. So far, my requests have been ignored.

But when those first flowers of spring pop out of the soil, it is time to come out of our creative caves to see what we have made. My characters will stretch their arms and legs (and in some cases, their wings) and greet the sun with a new understanding of what they discovered during those cold months of hibernation with only their emotions and ideas to occupy their minds. Spring will be the time to feel the grass beneath their feet and awaken their senses. A time to connect again with the rest of the world. A time to play with the story I wrote in a cozy winter womb.

Written on March 7th, 2013 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,

She sees you when you’re sleeping. She knows when you’re awake…

Not sure what was going on to the left of us, but it was more interesting to the dogs than my 79-yr-old father rolling around on the ground to get what he felt was the perfect angle.

 

 

 

Written on December 12th, 2012 , Uncategorized Tags:

Dog Graduate #1

Meet some of my 4-legged students helping me become certified in dog training. Lovable nine month old Boonaoom graduated this week with flying colors, literally. In the beginning, she would climb up on a chair and use it as a doggie diving board to sail over the training area’s four foot high corral. This sweet-sixty-pounds-of-fun taught me the importance of communicating in ways an audience can understand. Under the guidance of Carrie (the Yoda of all dog trainers) I’ve found the job of dog trainer to be more of a translator between the dog and pet parents. When they learn each other’s language, both walk away feeling closer, which leads to a better relationship. So, since I relate everything to writing (or Star Wars…or Seinfeld…or Harry Potter), I have to share the similarities I’ve noticed between dog training and writing for young people:

  • Don’t just say they are a “good dog.” SHOW it with action. Rub their chest. Scratch their ears (the dogs, not the readers). For a character, don’t just say “Josh is a nice guy.” Have him give half of his favorite sandwich to a new kid who forgot his/her lunch.
  • Be clear. If you mean “sit” then say “sit.” Don’t sayrest on one’s behind.”
  • If you want your dog (or reader) to walk with you— don’t get sidetracked. Keep moving. Stay on the path (plot). Sure, those trees need sniffing, but save that for play time (random thoughts that don’t need to go on the walk, I mean, in the story).
  • Treats must be earned. They (dogs or characters) cannot have all they want given to them; they need to work for it.
  • Establish trust. If you promise treats (answers) in the end, you’d better follow through.

Other works-in-progress (dogs who are revising their behavior: cutting out parts that do not show their sweet character while adding ones that do):

Audacious Aubrey

Rock-em sock-em Rocky

Lovable Lady Gaga

 

Cuddle Me Cali

Back-up-off-me Bandit

Written on August 1st, 2012 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,

Before entering a writing contest, it is important to read your story and synopsis aloud to an attentive audience.

It’s a LAP desk—not a “nap” desk.

Written on July 14th, 2012 , Uncategorized Tags: ,

My hero, Horton the elephant

When we think of our first role models, besides parents or those in our daily lives, we normally think of superheroes with special powers far beyond our reach. For most of us, there were more significant heroes before we got caught up with cool cartoon ones. I’m talking about those creatures we dragged around in the form of stuffed toys, who slept by our sides every night, reminding us of our favorite story.

Books like The Lorax and Horton Hears a Who introduced us to those who stood for something greater than themselves. They held large concepts, but yet we understood their message and their hearts, so much that we wanted them with us all of the time.

I wonder how much creatures like The Lorax and Horton influence us as we get older. Did The Lorax help teach me to care about the environment? Did Horton show me that “a person’s a person, no matter how small” and to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves?

Recently, my best friend and I took her four-year-old to see the movie The Lorax. When the movie was over, her little boy started to act out. His mom kept asking him what was wrong. After a few minutes of stomping around and not being able to look at us, the little guy went from anger to sadness. He cried but managed to get out words that brought us all to tears: “But the trees…”

Feeling responsible for every tree that has ever been cut down in the history of the world (how do they do that?) we stood silent, not knowing what to tell him. My friend rushed out to get the book so she could read over and over again about how the trees came back and he could touch bright-colored pictures of those precious truffula trees. She also got him a stuffed toy Lorax which has not left his side. Her son wants to plant a tree so they won’t all disappear. I love this kid (and will of course tell this story to his future prom date before allowing them out of the house :)).

My question is this: Do our first heroes help make us who we are, or do we migrate to those that mimic what we already believe? I tend to think it is both. Maybe this is a question only a four-year-old can answer.

Written on April 23rd, 2012 , Uncategorized Tags: ,

May your holidays be filled with peace and joy.

Photo not used on our card…

Written on December 19th, 2011 , Uncategorized

We witness the last of the Harry Potter movies this month <sigh>. Seeing the end of this legendary tale, I have to wonder why this story resonates in us to such an extent. Yes, it is suspenseful, adventurous, etc, but it must be more than that. Is it the power of the friendships; characters so solid in what they seek; courage to face unimaginable fears?

For me, the Potter series was an eye-opener. It let my imagination run wild through the halls of Hogwarts and the forbidden forest. The words put me back in touch with my own creativity and imagination. J.K. Rowling released the inner middle-grader in me.

I remember the wave of excitement with the release of each book or movie. They brought Potter fans together with no barriers of age, language, or culture. Sitting in a bookstore until midnight, waiting for the latest Potter release, was a feeling of oneness with strangers. Everyone there, and in bookstores across the country—across the globe—wanted the same thing. We needed to embrace the friendships and hardships of characters we had come to love. Okay, and we were dying to know what happens to Harry!

So with the release of the final movie, we say thank you to Harry, Hogwarts, and most of all to the author and those who believed in her story enough to bring it to us. So raise your mug of butterbeer, or glass of pumpkin juice to J.K. Rowling as you curl up in front of a cozy fire in the Gryffindor Common Room to read your favorite Potter book.

“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic.” –Professor Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2.

Written on July 30th, 2011 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,

I have changed web hosting companies, and switched to a new format. This website is now brought to you by wind power. While Host Gator uses wind mills for energy, they are protecting 551 acres of forest a year!

 

Written on April 3rd, 2011 , Uncategorized Tags: , ,
Debbie Emory

Writing humorous fiction infused with death, dysfunction, and dads.