Wednesday, December 22, 2010

WTCF! Too many gadgets.

Okay, here I am again asking, “What the Cat Fur?”  This time it concerns electronics.
Daddy had a sign hanging in his office of a good ol’ boy studying his brand new pump handle, scratching his head in confusion.  The caption read, “Living ain’t easy no more, there’s too many gadgets.”
Amen, brother.
I went to Wal-Mart today which was complete insanity on my part because it’s three days before Christmas. All the animals are out of their cages running amuck in aisles of Wally World.  I had to go because my alarm clock broke.  (God forbid I don’t get up in time to join the world in its 8-5 craziness.)   
All I wanted was a nice, little clock, and I found one for $6.00.  Perfect.  I get home and find before I can even read the instructions, I have to unscrew the clock from the cardboard package.  Yes, you heard right.  The clock was screwed to the cardboard with two, tinnie-tinny Phillip-head screws.  (I guess alarm clocks are a hot item this Christmas so they needed to bolt them down.)
What the Cat Fur is that all about? 
How many people happen to have a tinnie-tinny Phillip-head screwdriver in their kitchen drawer?  I’d bet not many.  But surprise!  I did.
I get the clock unscrewed and find out that it’s battery powered, not electric.   
What the Cat Fur? 
How stupid of me to think that in this day and age something doesn’t plug into the wall.  To add insult to injury, the display light only stays on for five seconds when you push the snooze button.  How, may I ask, will I be able to groan and cuss when I roll over to discover it’s only five minutes before the alarm goes off, when the clock’s face is dark as pitch?  This isn’t going to work.  What now?  Let's see. In my office I have another clock that can be used as an alarm clock and it is electric.  However, sense I've lost the instructions and don’t have a degree in rocket science, I can’t set the alarm.
By this time, I’m about ready to pull a Dixie---get my 22 pistol out and shoot all three clocks and the idiots that made them.  All I want is an electric clock that tells regular time with an alarm that can be set with a flip of a switch and that I can see.  But nooooooo!  That would be just too damn simple.
I now have two clocks on my bedroom dresser.  One tells regular time and displays the hours and minutes in bright bold colors, while the other has the alarm set with the battery. 
Don’t know why I bother.  I always wake up before the alarm goes off anyway.
Now, for cell phones.  Oh boy how I love them!  No, I really do.  They come in handy when stranded on the by-pass at midnight with a flat tire.  However . . .  
All I want is a cell phone that I can call out and receive calls on.  I don’t want email, texting, camera, TV, internet, I-tunes, lions, tigers or bears!  Nor do I want to confess my ignorance and ask my twenty-year old co-worker how to answer the damn thing.
Technology is a wonderful thing, but I can’t help but wonder how the Cat Fur we got along so well without a cell phone stuck to our ear?  And texting?  Lord, don’t even get me started!
Well, it’s time for bed, so I’m going to set all my clocks, charge up my cell phone and crawl under the covers. 
At least I don’t need PhD in Electronics for that!
P.S.  My twenty-year old co-worker read this last night and had pity on me.  This morning when I got into work "Santa" had left an electric alarm clock on my desk for me.  Ya gotta love those cute, young men!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Congratulations! It's a . . . BOOK!

My book will be published the first of 2011!
I listened to writers tell how long they worked on their novels—three, four, maybe even five years—and thought to myself they must be doing something wrong.  It takes that long to write a book?  No way.   That na├»ve belief was the first of many mistakes I made on my journey into the magic realm of writing.   Happy to say, however, the voyage ended successfully.   Soldiers from the Mist is the result of a 3-1/2 year long, often frustrating, but never boring adventure.   
After shouting my good news to the four corners of the world, one of my friends made the comment, “Big deal.  It’s not like you had a baby.”  
Hmm . . . maybe I should re-think that friendship.  The words hurt, but there was a grain of truth in them.  Even though I’ve never been pregnant, I think writing a book must be a lot like having a baby.
Soldiers from the Mist was conceived on my living room couch one lazy Sunday afternoon. (Bet that sounds familiar to a lot of you out there.)  From that moment on, my life changed.  Soldiers consumed and controlled my every waking and sleeping hours.  The book became my world. 
Sounds like pregnancy to me.    
Like an expectant mother, I racked my brain for just the right name to call my bundle of joy:  A Soldier’s Promise?  Five Promises? Ghost Soldiers?  I researched names, places, events, and family bloodline.  All the while, my “baby” grew from a tiny seed into a literary fetus connected to my soul. 
The tadpole of an idea began to take on personality, developing its own story and background from DNA imprinted from previous lifetimes.  
I watched in awe as Charlie, Jessie, and Emmie evolved from a twinkle in my eye into fleshed-out individuals, alive and kicking. The book took on life.  It cried, pouted, and demanded my attention, 24-7-365.  A bond formed.  I cherished it. Lived for it. Loved it.
Soldiers from the Mist will come screaming into the world sometime in January if the doctor has the due date correct, either a Capricorn or an Aquarius.  Earth or Water.  Stable, ambitious, humorous, friendly, honest, loyal and original.  A must read.  More will be revealed.  But for now:  
Three men.  Three promises—two were broken; one should have been.  Thirty-five souls are trapped for eternity because of those promises.  These souls wait and search for the fourth promise that will set them free . . .

Monday, December 13, 2010

A Christmas Tree's Wish

Every year they come—the little boy and girl.   So deceiving with their frost-kissed rosy cheeks and shining innocent eyes, yet hunters none-the-less. 
The tassels on the end of her stocking cap bob from side-to-side with each step.   The man sized saw clutched tight in his gloved hand drags the ground. 
I watch them duck under the barbed wire fence and shudder.  Not from fear.  But from excitement.  Please let this be my year to shine.
“Here I am,” I call out into the wind ripe with the scent of wet snow. “Pick me!  Pick me!”
She stops.  Turns.  His gaze follows her.  I dare not breathe.
“It’s perfect.” 
Ah, how I’ve dreamed of those two little words! 
With love and laughter they adorn me with garments of tinsel and glass.    
Gold ornaments here.  Silver icicles there.  Bright lights everywhere.
        “Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree of all the tress most lovely”
 I stand at the window and beam my pride into the night so dark and crystal clear.
God, how I love this time of year!

Saturday, December 4, 2010


Daddy was a colorful character.  One of his favorite sayings was, “What the cat fur is going on?”  (WTCF for short)
WTCF is a distant cousin to the famous WTF.  Even though WTF is fast becoming a widely used expression, there are those that frown on it.  Personally, I think a loud WTF every once in a while is good for the soul.  However, in order not to offend, I will refrain from using this acronym and opt for daddy’s WTCF. 
  My intent for this blog site is to put positive, joyful energy into the universe—to focus on the productive instead of the non-productive.  I try to live my life the same way.  However, there are moments when I just have to stop and ask, “What the cat fur is going on?”  Thus, from time-to-time, WTCF will pop up.   This is allowed because, after all, it is my blog.
Today’s WTCF concerns politics and money—two of the worst topics of conversation.
I confess when it comes to politics I’m as dumb as a box of rocks.  I don’t know the difference between a Republican or a Democrat.  The only thing I know about Right Wing and Left Wing is what side of the chicken they’re on. Tea Party?  Isn’t that what Alice and the Mad Hatter had? 
My friend, Gypsy Jan, claims I’m smart not to know the workings of government and to stay that way.  Hmm . . .  maybe, but I have the solution to our economic and political BS—another great acronym. 
Everyday at work the TV in the break room is tuned to FOX News.  From 8-5 we are bombarded with every type of negativity known to mankind—earthquakes, violence, death, and destruction.   No wonder co-workers are irritable, listless, and uncaring. 
Even if we aren’t consciously listening to the endless gloom and doom being spouted from every news correspondent and consultant, negative energy is worming its way into our brain.  Now, take this non-productive energy and multiply it by the millions of people watching the news every day and you have the answer to why the world is in the shape that it is.
Remember the men trapped in the mine in Chile?  Instead of focusing on their death, the Chile government and people concentrated on LIFE.   For a brief moment in time, the world held its breath and said millions of prayers of hope and optimism. Governments and people from all over the world forgot their hatred and bickering and worked together for the benefit of Man.  
That wonderful, positive energy manifested into a flawless, successful rescue.
Remember Apollo 13?  NASA put all intent on getting those astronauts back alive. Failure was not an option.  Again, people all around the world banded together and concentrated on a positive solution.  The result?  All three space travelers made it safely home to Mother Earth.  
In both examples, the world shifted the focus from the negative to the positive.
What would happen if, for one second, everyone in the world shifted their focus from the power of the all-mighty buck to that of one of endless abundance and gratitude?   
Ask yourself what would happen if, for only one moment, everyone decided to concentrate on love and acceptance instead of hate.
The answer to world peace, a stable economy, and outstanding leadership is not Republican or Democrat, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or Pagan.  It isn’t rich, poor, or middle class.  It’s simply a matter of putting all intent into THE GOOD. 
That is the second coming of Christ.