"TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE"

Yesterday I stood in the break room at work and watched the space shuttle Atlantis escape Earth’s gravity and soar into the final frontier for the last time. Arms folded over my chest, I secretly crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer: 

“Please God, protect them. Give Mission Control the wisdom to abort the flight even if the smallest of details don’t look right. Angels, surround the shuttle and her crew and fly with them to their destination and bring them home safety again.”

Chill bumps popped and tears stung my eyes as I counted down . . . 4-3-2-1 . . . we have ignition, we have lift off.”

When I was a little girl, daddy and I would go outside every night and watch for the satellite “Echo” to cross the skies.  He pointed out the Big Dipper and told me how to find the North Star. We would ponder life on other planets and look at the moon knowing, some day Man would go there.

I was a Girl Scout counselor the summer Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. Twenty-five counselors crammed into a tiny staff house and watched the miracle on a 19 inch black and white TV.  Afterwards, I stood outside the cabin and stared at that big yellow orb hanging in the inky sky and willed myself to see the astronauts and their moon rover.

In the 1990’s I lived in Galveston, Texas.  Houston was just a hop, skip, and a jump away and so was NASA.  When Daddy came to visit, NASA was our first destination.  We saw the Mercury space capsule that Allen Shepherd rode in and wondered how a man could fit in that small of space.  Daddy said Shepherd was the first man selected to go into space because he had the least fear.  I don’t know if that is true or not, however, I could well imagine how his heart must have been pounding.

The Gemini capsules were fascinating. Again, we marveled at how small an area two astronauts had worked side by side in.  The moon rover looked silly and out of place in the NASA auditorium, but the little dune buggy had gotten the job done. Daddy and I thought the space shuttle amazing. It took so much power and energy to get that thing launched and yet it was just a simple gilder plane when it came home to land.  



Mother Earth



I remember Apollo 13’s trouble and how the world held its breath waiting and praying for those three men to come back to Earth safe and sound. And they did. Why? Because in that brief moment in time, Mankind banded together and put all their energy and concentration into getting them back.  “Failure is not an option,” the head of Mission Control had said.  

The power of a collective consciousness is astounding.

I feel sad that the shuttle missions are ending however; I know that man will continue to visit the vast black beyond.  Challenger and Atlantis are just stepping stones to bigger and better space crafts.  Worm holes will be found and the speed of light will be conquered by warp drive.  



Kirk & Spock



Personally, I have no desire to travel into space. I don’t have the guts.  Unless, of course, I could be on the Enterprise with Kirk and Spock.

Daddy, on the other hand, would’ve loved to have been a "rocket man."

God bless and Godspeed Atlantis.

Rodeo of the Ozarks--- A million dollar memory



Joe Horse



I think my love affair with horses began when I was in the womb.

While pregnant with my brother and me, Mama rode my oldest brother’s horse, Joe. She wasn’t a big horsewoman or had dreams of being a cowgirl, she just loved Joe.  

Grandma (her mother) was a different story. Grandma loved horses and rode every chance she got.  I remember her telling me that Great Grandma always insisted she be a lady and ride side-saddle. When Grandma rode into town for the mail, she’d ride from home side-saddle but when out of sight of the house, she’d dismount, take the saddle off, hide it in the bushes, then ride bareback into the post office.  Of course she’d saddle up again before reaching home.

Grandma

My Uncle Jimmy (Daddy’s brother) was a horse trainer. His horse was a huge American Saddle bred named Beauty.

So you see, horses are in my genes.



Uncle Jimmy & Beauty



As a child, I was obsessed with horses. Drove Mama and Daddy crazy. More than once the neighbors would telephone Daddy and laugh.  “Elmer, that daughter of yours is riding my horses again.” The solution to my catching and riding the neighbor’s horses was simple: Let me have one of my own! 

Grandma understood my horse infatuation and made sure I would have the money to buy my magnificent steed one day by bequeathing me two, $100. Savings bonds. 

King

I was thirteen when Daddy gave in and let me buy a sorrell gelding named King. Daddy called King a million dollar horse because I wouldn’t have taken a million dollars for him.

Of course, I wanted to ride Million Dollar King in the biggest, bestest rodeo parade of all: The Rodeo of the Ozarks.

I remember the summer of 1965 as one of my greatest.  Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Clayton (the other horse trainer in the family) came all the way from Marysville, Kansas to spend Fourth of July with us and see me ride in the parade. 

 We went to the rodeo all four nights.

That year the main attraction was a genuine Indian Princess and her white horse.  The Princess, complete with a huge headdress of feathers, would walk to the far end of the arena. Her wild horse would run from his end to meet her and she’d leap onto his back and ride without using a bridle or a saddle.  The high point of her act was when she jumped her pure-white stallion over a red convertible parked in the middle of the arena. Wow! The sight of his snowy mane and tail flowing in the wind when that horse flew over that car gave me chill bumps. Dreamed about it for months.

The Rodeo of the Ozarks parade started at the rodeo grounds in Springdale and went straight down Emma Street.  I was decked out in my long sleeve Northwest Arkansas Riding Club shirt, jeans, and cowboy hat.  Never mind that is was hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk, I was just too cool looking to worry about the heat.

King strutted his best.

Red silky neck arched. Flaxen flowing tail held high.  That million dollar gelding pranced and danced all the way down Emma and would’ve passed everyone and every horse if not for the tight rein I had on him.  

My life long dream was over in an hour.  

Loading King into the trailer, getting him to the rodeo grounds, loading him back, and getting him home took longer. 

Poor Daddy.  He had to do everything but ride the horse for me.

He did so without complaining.  

Because that’s what daddies of cowgirls do.

That night my uncles, my brother and me, Mama and Daddy ate homemade peach ice-cream on the porch. The full moon lit the sky, the stars glowed like diamond points, the whippoorwills called, and the night creatures sang their best medleys.  

It just doesn’t get any better than that.

King got apples and carrots for a midnight snack for being such a champ.

I’ve gone back to the Rodeo since then but it was never the same as that great summer of 1965.

However, no matter the year, you can bet that somewhere in those bleachers, a little girl breaks out into a sweat when the rodeo queen gallops past.

 And dreams of the day when daddy takes his million dollar daughter and her million dollar horse to the rodeo parade.



A young Dixie Dandelion and King



Eureka in Eureka!



BigFoot Pam, Dixie Ruth, Doc Ned, Alaska Patty


Last weekend (June 25-26th) I had a book signing at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

Three of my writing buds went me and together we traded the blahs of every day life for the healing magic of the Springs. Not only was this a much needed "get-a-way-from-reality" weekend, it was also a time to celebrate:


Ruth Burkett Weeks

I had a book signing for Soldiers From the Mist. 

Alaksa Patty signed a contract with Wild Rose Press for not one, but TWO romance novels due to be released in November, Santorini Sunset and Redneck Ex.

Big Foot Pam's new novel, Redneck Goddess,has been released from HighHill Press and the next book signing will be her's.

Gypsy Jan signed with an agent and it's only a matter of time before her novel, Broken Dolls finds a home.

 Doc Ned headed over to the Springs on Sunday to lend his advise and experitse.



Gyspy Jan and Alaska Patty



Alas, we didn't see any ghosts at the famous haunted hotel probably because we laughed so hard we scared them!However,the siging was very successful.  Thanks to Linda Clark and her staff for their help, and to the owner, Jean for her support.

Something wonderful happened last weekend in that small town nestled in the Ozark hills.  Nerves calmed. Time disappeared. Food and drink flowed. And laughter, lots and lots of laughter rejuvenated us all.  

Too much excitement for Jasper Cat

Never under-estimate good friends and good laughter, for that is the true magic in life!



Crystal Dining Room Crescent Hotel



SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!

 
COME ONE, COME ALL TO MY BOOK SIGNING

When:  SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2011

Where:  THE CRESCENT HOTEL  Eureka Springs, Arkansas

TIME:  2:00-4:00

I am so excited to announce this book signing. 

The Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas is one of my favorite haunts.  (get it—haunt?)  The Hotel is nationally known for the ghosts that live there and who interact with the staff and patrons. 

In my book, Soldiers From the Mist, an actual happening occurred at the Crescent that I included in the novel as one of the Whisperings entries.  AND guess when that occurred?  Yep, you got it, on the exact weekend that my book signing is scheduled! 

THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS COINCIDENCES!!!!

So, drive over to the Crescent and join me for what I know will be a fun afternoon.  Every one will be there including Charlie, Jesse, Emmie, and all the gang.  The hotel is beautiful in the spring and summer and on Sunday mornings they serve a buffet in the Crystal Dining room that is to die for.  (Ooops bad choice of words). 

                       Be there or be square!

                                                                     

                                                                     

Tarot 101

I realize it’s been awhile since I’ve made a blog entry.  I apologize. I’d like to say I’ve been swamped with book signings and writing conferences, but the plain truth is I’ve had the blahs.

You know the blahs otherwise known as the blues.  Or depression.   All of us get this way from time-to-time.  My blahs, however, are stubborn and don’t seem to want to move out which is ironic because I have no idea when they moved in.  Just woke up one morning and bang!  Blah.   

First, I blamed the weather.

I hate winter. The cold. The ice. The snow. I crave sunshine. Then, the monsoons hit.  Water, water every where. And wind!  Living in a mobile home with tornadoes lurking about is not a comfortable feeling. I prayed to every thing and every one who wore a halo and had wings. But now, even though it went straight from winter into summer, the weather isn’t a problem.

Oh, I thought about mopping the floors, doing the laundry and the dishes.  For Pete’s sake, I have a dishwasher.  I needed to write, write, and write.  But, today is Tuesday and NCIS is on TV.

This has got to stop!

I decided to consult the Tarot cards to see what the cat fur was going on.

Tarot cards have been around since the beginning of time. Playing cards are modeled after them which reminds me of a funny story:  I went to a “reader” in a nearby town with a friend of mine.  The reader was supposed to be excellent. She read modern day playing cards instead of the Tarot and informed me quite rudely that she didn’t believe in the Tarot.  Well, duh!  Where did she think the idea of playing cards came from?  

But I digress.

There are 78 cards in the Tarot deck.  They are divided into two separate units, the Major Arcana and the Minor Arcana that explain in more detail what the Major guys are up to.   They have four suits, just like a deck cards which corresponds to the four elements:  Swords (air), Pentacles (earth), Wands (Fire) and Cups, (water.)  The deck also contains Kings, Queens, and Knights.

There are hundreds of different decks of Tarot cards on the market.  I collected them until I got too many, then I gave them away.  Giving a Tarot deck to someone is good mojo.  I read the Ryder-Waite deck. 

Some readers advise to put your energy on the cards before starting to read.  An excellent way to do this is to sleep with them under your pillow.  I confess, I did that.  Did it work?  Couldn’t say.  But I do think of my Tarot deck as an old friend.

A good, honest, sincere reader will tell you, any one can read the cards.  There is no mystery to unlocking their meaning. Yes, there are guidelines that help, but basically just look at the cards and determine what the pictures mean to you.  This explains why one card can mean one thing to a one reader and the same card can mean something else to different reader.   It doesn’t matter as long as those readers interpret the card the same way every time.  

Also, contrary to popular belief, the cards do not foretell the future!  No one can predict the future because of a little thing called free will.  However, the cards can point out happenings that may occur.  A co-worker told me of a reading he received which said he was going to die in a car accident on a certain date.  He was scared too death and wanted to know what to do.   First, the cards very, very rarely pin point an exact time.  Second, don’t drive that day!  Stay home!

Duh.  It isn’t rocket science, people!

I read the Tarot at various psychic fairs and at parties and for personal clients, but I stopped because most people hear but don’t listen. (Don’t get me started on this.)  They twisted the cards to fit their preconceived plan and didn’t listen to what I said.  One client wanted to know what his future wife would look like: her weight, hair color, eye color, job, where she lived, how many brothers and sisters she had, etc, etc.. I finally referred him to someone else. True, the cards can determine hair color and eye color but nothing is written in stone.  If I told him she would be a red head with green eyes Mrs. Right with blonde hair and blue eyes could pass him on the street. 

The Death card gets a bad wrap in the deck.  Very, very rarely does it mean physical death.  It is rebirth.  Much like a flower dies in the winter but is reborn in the summer. But, no one listens to that when I slap the Death card down.  So, I pulled the Death from my deck.  I have one that means physical death, but I don’t tell the client which one.  I also have a cards for yes, no, and maybe.

Oh, and while I’m at it.  Some consider the Tarot as devil worship.  For those of you that know me, do I look evil?  And, if you ever receive a reading that scares the liver plumb out of you, don’t pay attention to it.  An honest, sincere reader leaves the client with hope regardless of the situation. 

All of this is a round-about-way to getting to the cards I pulled to explain why I have the blahs.

I drew two major arcana cards: Judgment and The Wheel of Fortune.

Judgment can mean procrastination.  Oh gee, that fits to a T.

The Wheel of Fortune means the beginning of a new cycle. Progress. Advancement. Improvement.  

So what does that mean?

Get off my lazy butt and do something constructive!

True friends always tell the truth no matter how ugly.

BEWARE!

Temper Tantrum

A frown creases Mother Nature’s face.

Features darken and clouds start to race.

Puke green skies spew dime-sized hail.

Lightning slashes the ozone with a scratch of her fingernail.

Thunder rumbles from the kicking of her feet.

Rain flattens the grass like a wet, cotton sheet.

Soft breezes harden into mighty winds that blow.

The Lady’s fixing to put-on one hell of a show.

The Doppler sings out, tornadoes are near.

People, like ants, scurry underground out of caution and fear.

An eerie silence hangs heavy in the electric-charged air.

Curses are thrown.  But is that really fair?

Man rips her crust and slaughters her trees.

Birds lose their homes and are forced to flee.

Gooey, black oil poisons her water,

Smothering the fish, the duck, and the otter.

Her anger and sorrow are justified.

For a Mother must grieve for the children that died.

How much more must she endure

Before Man wakes up and initiates a cure?

It was only a temper tantrum she threw today.

But beware; tomorrow there could be hell to pay.

Time is Realitive



"Down the hall and to the right."



As I sat in my little cube at work this week, I couldn’t help but think about time. 

The old saying, “time flies when you’re having fun,” is an absolute truth.  Eight hours at work drag.  The same eight hours spent at a writing conference, whizzes by like a freight train.

Last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday (May 5-6) I attended the Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc., aka OWFI, annual writing conference in Oklahoma City.  It was the first year I attended as previous years the date fell on the end of the month and I couldn’t go because of work.  (The only excuse for missing the end of the month at my job is death, and even then a death certificate would probably be asked for.)

I was the chairperson in charge of registration this year which sounded scary as over 400 people usually attend the conference, but as usual, I worried about nothing.  It was a blast!  Every one was friendly, joyful, and polite.  I had excellent help at the front desk and we got people in and out slick as greased owl shi . . . uh . . . well you know.  

Time flew. 



New author:  Ruth Burkett Weeks



All week I lived in the past:  “This time last Friday night I was at a banquet watching my name and picture flash on the big screen for new, published authors. 



Last Saturday afternoon, I was at an autograph party signing copies of my book.

This time last Saturday I was at an awards banquet, eating steak, drinking rum, and accepting awards. 



Eat, Drink, and be Merry!



 “This time last week” was my mantra all week long.



Soldiers From the Mist by Ruth Burkett Weeks





Gurus say it isn’t healthy living in the past; we should live in the moment instead.  Yeah, maybe, but sometimes the past is the only thing that makes the present bearable.

First Place, First Honorable Mention, Second Honorable Mention



Arkansas Ridge Writers Rule