Thank you dear one for visiting.
On a drive the the country fair outside of Eugene Oregon, my friend Rita turned to me. "Quick," she said, "Make a wish."
Stupefied, I asked, "Why?"
"A white horse, I always wish on white horses."
Well I wished on birthday candles and the first star of the evening, and with my love of horses, I thought wishing on white horses seemed like a good idea. So, here we go wishing on white horses, but first...
on Tuesday morning missing Peaches and Bear.
before, daughter and I visited Golden Labrador puppies, turned out to be a puppy
mill—that gave us cause for pause, although the puppies were adorable, I don’t
know what to do with that information—numerous dogs in kennels, probably never
get to run like a normal dog, never have an owner to bond with, but they do
have other dogs. The owner is probably operating within the laws, size of runs,
cleanliness, etc. I also played with an exuberant
shelter pup coursing through town on the way back to California. I declined
The next morning,
Tuesday, my day off, it became clear that I wanted a small dog. I checked out
poodle mixes on the Internet, and found two I was interested in in the Portland
vicinity. I made an appointment—the woman was willing to drive from Vancouver
to the airport area to meet me. I said I would call when I got to Willsonville,
about 40 minutes away as she requested.
There is a pet store in Wilsonville daughter and I visited on an earlier
occasion—might as well check it out while I am here.
The pup I
A Mal Chi—A Maltese/
Chihauhau mix. A Purse pup. An adorable,
smart, gentle dog. She is so small she
makes the cats look big. (So far, so good, no cat attacks, no dog attack.)
I was embarrassed
to tell the lady I wasn’t coming, but divine providence had led me to the pup
that felt right.
before, Monday, I finished a novel—finished? If a book is ever finished. It is
completed enough to enter a contest. And that’s where “Africa” comes in.
Miss Sara Rose a retired school
teacher from King’s Valley Kansas, has a dream: That is to ride a river in
Song of Africa is a love story, a story of age, longing,
self-discovery, following one’s dream, and finding love when you least expect
it—I began it some thirty years ago. I found the ending this month.
says, “A spinster? That won’t fly.”
Yes it will.
On her river
Miss Sara Rose finds the love of her life, someone to articulate her soul’s
search, and finds that no matter the age, we want our lives to be magnificent
I’m entering Song of Africa in a Harlequin Romance contest.
The First Chapter
is there. By September 21 the entire manuscript must be. It will be judged by
their judges on voice, content, and writing skills. If I make the first cut of
50, and here is the clinker, after that it
will be up for popular vote. I do not have ten million followers so probably
I don’t stand a snowballs chance in you know where. However I’m giving it a
shot. I am releasing it to the powers of the universe.
A reader can vote once a day. I can imagine that
many applicants will have a calloused pointer finger by the time this contest