Doubting myself

I annoy myself. I think about life, and wonder if it always has to be such a desperate rollercoaster, a battle of good and bad days. One day I’m excited about writing, and believe in my abilities. The next, it’s all an illusion, megalomaniacal dreams that I can’t reach. Publishing a book feels as an abstract and unrealistic a goal as normal weight. I have been writing for years in English. I have hundreds of readers all over the world. People who want to read what I write, whatever it may be, people who follow my stories, who like them. I, myself, am happy with my texts sometimes. Sometimes I go back to a story that I’ve written years ago, and feel amazed about how I’ve managed to get the text to flow so smoothly. Could I still do it? I doubt it, although I don’t know why I’m so insecure. My imagination, or should I say my muse took off when my mother died. Work, kids’ hobbies and volunteering was a perfect hiding place, instead of dealing with the sorrow head on. I sowed, and I’m still reaping. No one probably could’ve told what I was going through, I myself haven’t really realized it before now, a year and a half later, as the brain-fog is finally clearing.

And just because I was on a writing course in real life, I have decided to try to become at ease with writing in Finnish (my native language), so here’s the same text, more or less, – in Finnish.

Ärsytän itseäni. Mietin elämää, pitääkö sen olla tällaista epätoivoista vuoristorataa, hyvien ja huonojen päivien taistelua herruudesta. Yhtenä päivänä olen innoissani kirjoittamisesta ja uskon kykyihini, seuraavana kaikki on vain suurta harhaa, suuruudenhulluja mielikuvia jostain jota en kuitenkaan voi saavuttaa. Kirjan julkaisu on jotenkin yhtä abstrakti ja epätodellinen tavoite kuin normaalipaino. Olen kirjoittanut jo pidemmän aikaa englanniksi, ja ympäri maailmaa lukijoita on jo monia satoja. Ihmisiä jotka haluavat lukea mitä kirjoitan, on se mitä vain, ihmisiä jotka seuraavat tarinoitani, jotka pitävät tuotoksistani. Itsekin olen teksteihini aika ajoin tyytyväinen. Välillä palaan takaisin tarinaan, jonka olen kirjoittanut vuosia sitten ja ihmettelen, että miten olenkin onnistunut kirjoittamaan noin sulavasti ja mukaansatempaavasti. Osaisinko vielä? Epäilen, vaikken tiedä syytä epävarmuudelleni. Mielikuvitukseni, tai sanotaanko vaikka muusani otti hatkat, kun äiti kuoli. Työhön, lasten harrastuksiin ja yhdistystoimintaan oli paljon helpompi piiloutua surulta, kuin että olisin sen käsitellyt järkevästi. Tätä kylvämääni satoa korjaan edelleen. Päällepäin tätä ei välttämättä ole kukaan nähnyt, en itsekään ole tajunnut asiaa ennen kuin vasta nyt puolitoista vuotta myöhemmin, kun sumu on vihdoin hälvenemässä aivoistani.

 

Writing prompt

So, some of you have maybe noticed that I like to do these writing prompts, or flash fiction, at times. Usually when I don’t have enough time to actually write on my WIPs, but having the urge to write something, just to prove to myself that I still can.

Here’s what the prompt to use the words “Soap, yellow, frenzy” in piece of writing got out of me:

Crap! I hissed between my teeth as the paint bucket tipped for the third time off the ladder I was balancing on while painting the ceiling in the kitchen.  I descended in a frenzy and lifted the bucket up to assess the damage. Well, it could’ve been worse. The first time the bucket tipped off the ladder it had made a huge mess, so I didn’t keep that much paint in the bucket anymore.

Of course, I could’ve left this whole painting thing to Jake, my longtime boyfriend, but since he has not picked up on my not so subtle hints of the kitchen needing a new coat of paint, so I decided that if I want it done, sooner rather than never, I’d better do it myself.

I moved the ladder a bit closer to the window and then climbed the steps until I could reach the ceiling. I painted with long strokes and smiled, the difference between the old and the new was as clear as day. The old yellow stained ceiling was now pearl white, nearly shining.

Once I was done, I washed my paintbrush and took the paint bucket out to the garage. Then there was just the not so small task of removing all the newspapers that I had lined the floor with and carrying the table and chairs back into the kitchen.

When the kitchen was done, I was beat. Totally happy with what I had accomplished, but exhausted. I locked myself in the bathroom and took a long hot shower. I scrubbed my hands with soap, the paint stains staying put annoyingly well.

I twisted my hair into a towel that I turned onto my head, and wrapped myself in the fluffy pink bathrobe that Jake gave me for my birthday. The mirror on the wall was steamy, and I smiled as I saw the I heart U Jake had drawn on it during his morning shower. For a big, bearded biker, he was really a hopeless romantic at times.

“Babe?” I heard Jake’s voice.

“I’m in the bathroom,” I hollered and unlocked the door.

“Do you want to go out to eat?” Jake asked as he walked up to me and kissed me gently.

“Sure, why not.” I answered and wrapped my arms around his waist. I hugged him tight and looked him in the eyes.

“What?” Jake met my gaze and smiled, even though confusion could be read on his face.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe. Why don’t you go get yourself dressed? I’ll go get a coke while I wait.”  Jake disappeared into the kitchen and I held my breath waiting for his reaction to the refreshed kitchen. A minute later Jake came out of the kitchen sipping his coke and I was still standing glued to the spot I stood in when he left.

“What are you waiting for? I’m starving. Go get some clothes on or I’ll take you to town in that bathrobe.”

I picked out and put on clothes in a speed than would have put Wonder Woman to shame. My still damp hair I pulled into a messy bun. I slipped on a pair of loafers and painted my lips red before I headed out to the black Chevy waiting in the driveway.

“Babe? Why are there paint buckets in the garage?” Jake asked as he shut the garage door and locked it.

“I did some painting today.” I answered him sweetly.

“Really? What did you paint?”

“The kitchen ceiling.”

Jake frowned and said. “Really? Alone? You should have left it to me, I would’ve painted it for you.”

I sigh. Men. 

---

Picture from Pixabay.

Summer reading

Few weeks, or a month or so, ago I posted a cover reveal for Love, Hate and Us by SP West . Now, the book is available on  Amazon UK, Amazon US. Also Available on Kindle Unlimited.

I had the pleasure to read an ARC of the book, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I always think it’s a good sign that when finishing a book,  I’m left with the urge to read more, to read a sequel – or a second book to the series focusing on the other characters in the book. And this book definitely left me wanting more, perhaps a novella on Hope and Cade?

 

Clueless on vacation

Oh boy, I suck at having time off work. Day 2 of 28 and I’m already going nuts. The weather sucks, so I’ve just been bingeing on House of Cards all day.

I don’t know if I should be rooting for or against Frank Underwood. On one hand he’s appealing in a strange way, but on the other hand he’s a total egomaniac without a conscience. I wonder if the series is a somewhat accurate description of the congress, and politics in the US in general. Could be. Or not. I can’t help trying to guess who is the one pulling the strings behind Trump? How far will they let him stray before they admit that he’s doing the GOP and the US more damage than good. That CNN wrestling tweet… Seriously?

Enough politics. Back to my problem at hand. Apparently I’m a workaholic that is going through withdrawal, I feel anxious and moody. So basically I don’t know how to vacation. A change of scenery would probably do me good, but I don’t want to a) change out of my pajamas b) go meet people. I have only checked my work email once so far, and I didn’t reply to any so, that’s a step in the right direction, right? Hi, my name is H and I’m an workaholic.

Apart from going through withdrawal I’m also going through a food-crisis. I have to cook something for me and the kids (hubs eats at work), and I have zero, nada, silch motivation for it. We can’t eat out every day, or at least we shouldn’t. Could I just get myself a housekeeper or a cook? I wonder if anyone would be offering such services… Probably not. Days like these I really miss my mom. If she were alive, we could go over and she’d have lunch and dinner cooked, but now it’s all on me. Don’t get me wrong, I miss her for so much more than just her cooking.

There was something else I wanted to get off my chest, but can’t remember what it was.

Happy 4th of July to the US peeps!

 

Cover reveal

So, I have the pleasure to share with you the beautiful cover of author S.P. West‘s next book Love, Hate & Us.

Coming soon!

Brody and Brooke, sitting in a tree.
K-I-S-S-I-N-G…

We grew up thinking that our future was set in stone.
We were wrong.

Turns out there is a thin line between love and hate.

Then there is us.

Brooke never imagined a life away from Emmerton. She never pictured a life without her childhood sweetheart, Brody. But when Brody does the unthinkable, Brooke’s world is turned upside down. Unable to watch as Brody moves on with his life, she decides to start afresh.
Unfortunately, leaving her past behind is not as easy as she thought, especially when her past wants her back.

Author S.P.West on Facebook

Love, Hate & Us on Goodreads

Darker unmasked

So, now I’ve finally seen the unmasked version of the film Fifty Shades Darker. And all I’m capable of asking is why the hell didn’t they play the longer version in the movie theaters? I’m serious. The unmasked edition is the whole film. The theatrical one is just a badly chopped 90% of the film.

Besides that, all I can think of is: holy crap Mr. Grey/Dornan is hot. The difference to Fifty Shades of Grey is enormous. He was easy on the eye in the first one too, but clearly he was more comfortable and confident in the second film. So, now I’m eagerly waiting for Freed, because will be more of the same deliciousness since they filmed the second and third film at once.

I know people criticize the film for whatever reasons, but I loved it. L-O-V-E-D I-T. I’ve seen it now three times, and with each time I love it even more. I know I’m not a picky movie-watcher, so perhaps that helps. Or maybe I’m just 100% fan-girling 🙂 To be honest, I don’t actually understand why people want to watch movies and pick them apart? Can’t you just appreciate it as it is?

I guess it’s the same with books though. Now, I’m not a very critical reader, so if the grammar and text-flow is good, I’ll read it. If the story is good, I’ll read it even if the grammar and text-flow is off. Actually the editing has to be quite bad for me to put the book down. I usually just plow through it and re-edit the redundant words and phrases in my head. Although I’m then tempted to tell the author that they should get another editor…

But I digress from my point of being pointless. Where was I?

Oh, yes. Fifty Shades of Grey. Now, I noticed a Facebook post by E L James yesterday, and it seems like she’s writing Darker from Christian Grey’s point of view. That will be an interesting read, if, that is, she will dig a bit deeper into his head, and not just skim past it all like she did in Grey. I will buy it and read it, no matter what. Because that’s what a fan-girl does.

A theory of mine

It’s been ages since I’ve blogged anything, and I don’t quite know why? It isn’t that there aren’t plenty of subjects that I could write about, it’s just that I find myself lacking motivation and time.

Since my last post, the world has pretty much gone berserk. I mean seriously. Last 12 months include the election farce in the US, consequently followed by a Trump presidency and all the drama, nepotism and blatant corruption that it has brought with it. In Europe, we are struggling with the alt-right’s rise and dealing with devastating tragedies in London, Manchester and anew with the fire in London. My heart goes out to all the families and persons affected by these tragedies.

The Euro-centricity though, makes any other attacks and tragedies drown in the background noise. There was a bomb attack in China, which prompted only a few small headlines. And then of course there is Syria, which is barely mentioned in the news anymore since more important people are dying (pardon the sarcasm).

Syria, the apparently never-ending source of human tragedy. Innocent people are being killed, caught in the bombing as ISIS is being hunted down without much care for the tens of thousands of civilians trapped in the cities being bombed. Children are suffering, and the world has shut its eyes and ears. If the situation in Syria is not clear to you, I recommend watching The White Helmets on Netflix. The voluntary first responders dig out families, kids, dead or alive from the rubble of houses bombed from above. Mind you, only the government and the foreign countries participating in the war have airplanes. The cruelty of so called leaders is mind boggling.

But enough about Syria. Back to Europe, well, kind of, since it’s all intertwined.

I have a theory. It’s about terrorist groups like ISIS and why they do what they do. I mean, ordinary Muslims are just as outraged as anyone else at these idiots killing people in the name of their religion. In my eyes ISIS does not represent Islam any more than the KKK represents Christianity. There are nearly 2 billion Muslims, and for some reason they are being judged by the actions of a few thousand lunatics. No one asked Christians to denounce the actions of Breivik when he attacked in Norway. Catch my drift? No one thought it was because of his faith.

And this brings me back to my theory. Deep down I don’t even consider these terrorists Muslim. All they do is harm the Ummah. They harm the Muslims all over the world. And believe it or not, this is exactly what the terrorist leaders want. They don’t want Muslims to have normal lives, to melt into the population of their location, to fit in. No. Their objective is to make ‘the others’ hate – dislike – discriminate against Muslims. Because if they don’t, then the terrorists will not have anything to base their propaganda on. If you are a part of society, if you feel like you belong, why would you harm your friends, your family? My point exactly, you wouldn’t.

Same goes for the school shooters etc. Often the attackers have a history of being bullied, or socially shunned for whatever reason. And it’s this feeling of not fitting in, not being accepted, that the terrorist leaders want. They want people to feel out of place, so that their propaganda will work. If you are happy with your life, if you feel like you fit in, why would you leave it all for a (fake) promise of something better? The terrorist groups seek out these young men and women, who have little to none grasp of their religion, a lot of frustration against the society they are living in, and with a bleak prospect of a future. These youngsters are then promised things, and ultimately brainwashed, to do whatever the terrorist organization wants, to finally make them feel like they fit in somewhere. Now, if these people knew their religion and not just the out of context taken cropped parts of the Quran, that even the alt-right uses to taint the religion with, they would know that what they are being brainwashed to do is against Islam. If they felt like a part of society and had hopes for a brighter future, there would be no ground for terrorist ideas to grow in. And this doesn’t go just for so called religious terrorists. It goes for all extremism.

So, the division of us vs them plays ultimately into the hands of these terrorist groups.

I can’t be the only one that sees it like this?

Sorry for the overly political and serious post. Next time I’ll try to keep it a bit lighter. But with the state of the world being what it is, who knows.

 

Daily Prompt: Clumsy

via Daily Prompt: Clumsy

You know that feeling, right? The one, in where you feel like every set of eyes in the room are on you, as you stumble and trip, landing on your hands and knees, sending your coffee flying in a magnificent arch, just to splash all over the polished sandstone floor. No? That never happened to you? Well, good for you, pal. Good. For. You.

That did however happen to me, this morning to be exact, on my first day of work. No biggie. It’s not like first impressions count or anything.

As I picked up the shattered pieces of my pride, a set of designer shoes with Armani slacks stepped into my line of vision. I didn’t want to look at the face of the person attached to those shoes. I really didn’t. But it’s not like I had a choice. He held out his hand, and offered to help me up. What was I going to do? Say no thanks, Mr. Guy-in-Armani? Need I remind you I was on my knees in a pencil skirt in the middle of the in-company cafeteria, and all what was left of my dignity was about to be mopped up with the much needed boost of caffeine I wasn’t going to get.

So, I took his outstretched hand, and let him help me up. Alas, I had to thank him, and for that I needed to look at him. Yup. Big mistake. Big. Huge even. I’m serious. I’ve never seen a man like him in real life. I mean, holy macaroni, Batman. With wavy black hair combed back, a five o’clock shadow on his chin, and striking green eyes focusing on mine. I don’t dare to guess what he must’ve thought of me. Village idiot must be close, since it seems somewhere between tripping and falling, I also lost my ability to speak.

Eventually I managed to stutter a thank you. Mr. Green-eyed-stranger nodded, flashed me a smile that made me weak in the knees, and wished me a good first day at the office.

Holding my head high, I went back to the barista and ordered a new latte. While waiting for it, I realized, that apparently Mr. Armani-guy knew that it’s my first day here.

---

Note from me: Haven’t written in ages, so this just for trying to get my imagination going. I’m on sick leave today, so what else is there to do (besides binge watching stuff on Netflix) than to pick up the keyboard and trying my luck at writing. My muse has been very evasive so it’s not at all given that it’ll work…

A lemony writing prompt

Okay, so I wasn’t going for smut, but just a random writing prompt to get me out of my writing funk. But random is what random does. So, the prompt I got was this “It will be Friday, the day of perversion.”

Here’s what I wrote (somewhat unedited, since it was too late at night).

It will be Friday, the day of perversion.

The girls were the last ones to leave the office, so they locked up, and set the alarm knowing no one would be back before Monday morning.

“Any plans for tonight?” Sadie asked Kathryn who was getting her bike helmet on.

“Huge plans. Laundry, take out and Netflix.” Kathryn replied with a wink and snapped shut the lock beneath her chin.

“I’m so jealous. Not!” Sadie grinned.

“What do you have planned?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Sadie bit the inside of her cheek not to smile widely. “Ben is taking me out.”

“Somewhere fancy?”

“I’m not sure, he didn’t tell me where we’re going yet.”

Kathryn got onto her bike and placed her foot on the pedal. “Well, enjoy your mystery date.”

“I will. Hey, do you want to tag along if we go to a club? Ben could ask Jake to come too.”

“No thanks, I don’t want to intrude. Besides I’ve been waiting for ages for the last season of White Collar.”

“Call me if you change your mind, okay?”

“I will, and I won’t. See you on Monday!”
Kathryn took off with only a quick glance at the traffic before slinking in between two cars waiting for the traffic-light to go green.

A few minutes later a black Jaguar stopped by the curb. The back door was opened by the driver who got back behind the wheel as soon as she had entered the vehicle. Sadie could barely contain her excitement as she got into the car.

To her surprise the backseat wasn’t empty, but there were Ben and Jake, both in black slacks and grey shirts, the upper buttons undone.

“Hi.” Sadie said, a blush creeping up her cheeks as the men assessed her every curve. She didn’t mind it when Ben looked at her like this, but now Jake too was blatantly staring at her in front of Ben. It made her uncomfortable, and not entirely in the bad way. The men were both worthy of a modelling deal, Ben with his black hair and dangerously dark eyes, muscular body that would’ve made Adonis pale and Jake a sandy blond, blue-eyed hunk of beef.

“How was your day?” Ben asked and kissed her on the cheek, his voice a low rumble that caressed her skin.

“Same old, same old. Yours?” She replied trying not to let her sudden nerves be to evident in her voice.

“We had a long day,” Ben answered her. He leaned in to kiss her, his hand trailing up her thigh, the flimsy summer skirt sliding up beneath his touch. His lips hot against hers, made the fact that they weren’t alone in the car vanish from her thoughts. She parted her lips, and shifted in her seat. His fingers brushed the satin between her thighs and she sucked in a sharp breath, heat spreading over her body and concentrating where his fingertips touched her.

“It was a long day indeed, but I’m sure it was worth it.” Jake added, breaking Sadie’s illusion of Ben and her being alone in the car. She snapped her thighs together and tried to pry Ben’s hand away, but he refused.

“Forget him, for now,” Ben whispered, his voice deceivingly soft although it was a direct order. She knew not to talk back, not when he used that tone. Her body complied quicker than her mind did. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, no, he knew exactly how to play her body. It was a fine tuned instrument in the hands of a skillful musician. She had her safe-word that would make him stop if it ever became too much for her, but she had never needed it. But they had never had an audience either.

He kissed her again, her breath hitching as he pushed the satin covering her to the side and circled her sensitive nub with his fingers, and she did exactly what he had asked her to do, and forgot all about Jake being in the car with them.

He thrust gently into her, his fingers moving with ease, covered in her wetness. His tongue teased her, their mouths merged together. She tasted whiskey on his tongue, and figured that he had probably drank some after work. Her breath hitched as he thrust another finger into her, his thumb playing with her clit, whilst wrecking havoc on her sense of decency.

Ben got up for air, and Sadie opened her eyes, blushing crimson at the sight of Jake looking at her, his trousers doing a bad job of hiding the major hard on he was sporting. The fact that he kept on stroking himself through the fabric didn’t help either.

Ben realized what she was looking at, and his eyes gleamed with erotic promise. He pulled his fingers out from her, and took them to her lips. She kissed them, tasting herself on his skin, and then he put his fingers in his own mouth, sucking off the residue of her arousal. It was a move that never failed to shock her, no matter how many times she had seen him do it.

“Change places with me.” He ordered her, and she complied, a wave of excitement with a twist of apprehension, made her skin break out in goosebumps.

She opened her seat-belt and clumsily lifted herself off her seat, she shifted to the left, with Ben’s strong hands guiding her by her waist. He sat her in his lap, his erection poking against her derriere as he kissed her shoulder.

“Or maybe I should make you come like this.” He murmured as he bit her neck and slid his hand back in between her legs. She closed her eyes, as her being placed on his lap in the middle of the car made her hyper aware of how exposed she really was.

To her surprise and humiliation, the thought of being on display, made her even more aroused. Ben noticed it too and chuckled, his muscles rippling against her back. “I never pegged you for an exhibitionist, Sadie. Come on, baby, give us a show.”

He peppered kisses on her neck, nipping and sucking all the spots that seemed to be connected straight to her core.

He pushed her legs apart, spreading her further on display. With one hand inside her panties, and the other one grabbing her breast and tugging on her nipple ring, he stroked her into a frenzy.

She felt a hand on her thigh, and then it moved up. At first she didn’t think more of it, but when she felt a hot breath on her cleavage, her heart leaped up her throat and she stiffened. Warily she opened her eyes and saw Jake’s sandy blond hair in front of her face. He nipped on her skin and it was complete sensory overload.

Ben’s fingers inside her, his hand on her breast, his lips on her neck were alone enough to push her towards the edge of oblivion. The added surge of hormones zinging through her by Jake’s touch and the oddness of the situation sling shot her far into the abyss of sexual bliss, her body shook and throbbed as she moaned through her release. Sweat glistened on her skin, and both men kissed her, Ben on the back of her neck, and Jake on her front.

She slumped against Ben’s chest, her body utterly spent and exhausted. He shifted her off his lap so that she finally was seated I’m between the two men. He smiled as he met her eyes, his expression an odd mixture of shy and cocky at the same time.

“Thanks for the show, baby.” Ben kissed her lips.

She didn’t reply, because if she did, she would have had to face the reality of what just happened. And she really didn’t want to disrupt the post orgasmic bliss with thinking about the fact that Jake had been fondling her while Ben had been fucking her with his fingers.

“Take us home.” Ben tapped on the window between the backseat and the front of the car. “We will continue in a more private setting,” he then told her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they all would be taking that one step further tonight.

“Yes, Jake is coming too.” Ben answered her unasked question.

“Hell yes”, Jake added with a grin and a few strokes over his bulging trousers.

Why, what and how come

Picture from Pinterest.

So, perhaps maybe you have noticed that I’ve been away. Probably not, but someone might have.

Well, I haven’t been away, but I have been struggling ever since early morning Sunday 17th of January, when my dad called and said “I believe your mother has passed away, the paramedics are here.” Of course the conversation wasn’t in English but anyway… He sounded totally strange in that call, I remember. “Are you sure? No, that can’t be, I’m sure they will fix her.” I think I said, but it’s all a bit blur. “No, I don’t think they will, I’m sorry but she’s gone,” my dad said and we ended the call because he needed to talk with the people (paramedics, doctors, police, I guess even the firefighters because the emergency dispatch sends anyone who is near) there. I hanged on to the hope that they would get her heart beating again, you know like in the movies, where someone yells “CLEAR!” and then they jolt the person with electricity and they wake up. Yeah, apparently all the other things – except the waking up part happened. A few minutes later my dad called me again, and just repeated. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

So, I called my brother who had just traveled on a working trip to the other side of the world. He was in the cab on his way to the hotel from the airport when I reached him and blurted out “You need to call dad. Mom died.”  I did apologize later on for not softening the blow, but at the time I barely managed that.

We had no real warning signs, okay, she had a bit of a flu and was coughing the last week, but nothing _serious_ that would’ve led us to believe she’s about to die. On Christmas she was doing her thing like all other years before. And then less than a month later she’s gone.

Basically her last words were (just a few minutes before she died) “Let’s go back to bed and lie down for a while, it was so warm and comfy, we’re not in a hurry anywhere.” Dad tucked her in and said he’d come to bed too in a bit. He sat in the room adjoining to their bedroom when he heard a strange sound, jumped up and by the time he got to her he couldn’t get any reaction from her at all, when he tried to wake her up. She wasn’t breathing anymore. He called 112 (our 911) and started with CPR. The ambulance arrived quickly, as did all the others, but there was nothing they could do.

So what a start to the new year, eh?

I notified my boss about what happened and then stayed with dad for a few days until my brother managed to fly back (18 hour trip one way, so that doesn’t happen just like that) and come stay with him. After that it has been a bit blurry. February went by, we had the funeral and all the legal stuff what needed to be done. March, April and May just flew by…

Work has been busy, in a good way but since my brain has been a bit off due to all of the stress of this spring, I’m now cleaning up the messes (not big ones, but I hate fixing my own mistakes) I’ve made working on overdrive when I should’ve taken a step back and said – I can’t do it.

Outside work, I’ve been arranging a two-day football (soccer) tournament, that is a week away, or actually less than a week away, because this time next week it’s over and done with. Yeah, I do question my own sanity volunteering for these things. Needless to say, had I known that I would lose my mother, I wouldn’t have volunteered. Why didn’t I back out of it, I don’t know.

So besides work, kids, tournament arrangements, I have taken on worrying about dad, checking up on him, first few weeks (months?) I made sure he always had ready food in the freezer that he could just heat and eat. After all, they were an old school couple, married for more than 50 years and mom always did the cooking and washing – so he has had to learn how to fend for himself. But he’s doing okay, considering he lost the love of is life.

So there you have it, my excuse for being AWOL, for leaving my stories hanging, for ignoring my blog.

I hope to get back to writing, but before that I need to find myself again, and I just don’t have the time or the energy to do soul-searching.