Catfish are jumpin into plates, ole black water, mississippi moon.

WE HAVE A WINNER! Barbara at Serenity Gate wins the two books (from the list above) of her choice. Barbara - please email me and give me your address again -- I may still have your address in my files on this computer, but I may not. Mr. Good Man Roger can email your books to you if I'm not home soon!

We have two second place winners -- Sandra Leigh and Blue Violet - so if y'all will send me your mailing addresses via the hotmail email, I will send you just a little something when I get back to my mountain (when will that be? oh, I do not know! Poor Good Man Roger and Fat Labrador Jake are missing their Wolf Kat!).

My Worry News is that my beloved Frank - my mother's husband, who is like a second Father to me is very ill and needs surgery. They are moving him to Dallas to have the surgery. I will be leaving the Grandfather Oaks Spanish Moss Kings Cake Shrimp Poboy Beautiful People Warm Humid Air Springs Already Here land of South Louisiana and heading to TexasLand to be with my family - my mother & Frank, my father, my brother, my neices, etc, all live there - and once there I will support and hope that Frank comes through the surgery okay.

So again, I must ask you all to have patience with me as I am not in my regular routine and schedule on my mountain - I am going to try to take some time to visit you all before things get hectic again. I thank you all for your kind comments and for the fun and joy and smiles you bring as I read your comments - THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU *MUWAH!*

Please keep Frank in your thoughts, your vibes, your prayers - whatever you believe, I believe it all helps in the energies in the air towards Texasland and my Frank and mom.

Where have all my flowers gone?

My dear friends - I am still in South Louisiana! I hope you will forgive me for not visiting as I am on my computer only a few minutes in the morning.

As well, I hope to have some quiet time so I can look for the winner of the two books! I apologize that I have not done that right away as I usually have done with the other 'contests.'

My son will be heading back to Oregon early tomorrrow morning, so I've been spending a lot of time with his and....his New Fiance! Yes! He has asked his gf to marry him - or did I tell you all that? I'm so happy for them. In between visiting with my son and fiance; I am trying to see all my friends, too -- so, I am here there and yonder.

I'm also quite worried about my mother's husband - he's a lovely man and I adore him and he's ill right now. Please keep him in your thoughts...

The photo above is the house I lived in while I was in Baton Rouge before I moved back to the mountains. I loved that cottage - real wood floors, a nice sunroom where I did most all my writing and where Virginia Kate first took her first forms. We always were sad that the previous owners had cut down a big oak tree in the front yard - we had plans to plant another tree, but never did get to it. In the back were an oak tree, a magnolia tree, Louisiana Iris, and on the side were Camelias; there were lagustrums, and in the front bed were these full lush beautiful yellow flowers that I've forgotten the name of, but they are dug out of the bed - the new owner must not have known what they were. But, I would not go back to that house or to So. La. - because the mountains are Home.

I'll return soon - *muwah*

Louisiana...Louisiana, they're oaks are washin away, their cypress are washing away

I am in Louisiana! Where our wonderful Gumbo Writer is. I have been fed and fed and fed. I'm about to burst wide open with all the food they've "forced" me to eat (teehee). Shrimp Poboy, crawfish pie, King's Cake, Grilled Shrimp, etc etc etc etc! Just had lunch with Angie (Gumbo Writer) another friend, and my son and his fiance (who are also visiting here from Oregon).

It's 75 degrees today and will be 80 tomorrow - wow. Spring weather!

I've barely opened my laptop.....Soon, I'll be back to my regular schedule.....

Also, give me a bit of time to announce the winner of the two books; I will be doing that soon, but I feel as if I'm actually on a real vacation.

(And hey, I just realized! ...It's my birthday today!)

In the photos, you can see where the last hurricane, Gustav, has sickened the trees - it is winter, yes; but, the live oaks, which stay green all year, look stressed....so do some of the other trees.

Last Day! Where did Kat Magendie End up? (Book giveaway)

This should be easy!

Shrimp Poboys. Mardi Gras. Spanish Moss. Food everywhere. Kat's friends--Gumbo Writer!

Where am I?

Book Give away day 5: Where Am I Now?

First explored for Spain by Hernando de Soto. In 1699, a French group under Sieur d'Iberville established the first permanent settlement near present-day Ocean Springs.

Great Britain took over the area in 1763 after the French and Indian Wars, ceding it to the U.S. in 1783 after the Revolution. Spain did not relinquish its claims until 1798, and in 1810 the U.S. annexed West Florida from Spain, including what is now (the southern part of this state).

For a little more than one hundred years, from shortly after the state's founding through the Great Depression, cotton was the undisputed king of This State's largely agrarian economy. Over the last half-century, however, This State has diversified its economy by balancing agricultural output with increased industrial activity.

and they have purty Magnolia trees...


(Kat peeking in - teeheehee -- I know I haven't a chance to visit, but soon I will.... I just wanted to note that someone asked if I've stopped following them and NO I haven't! I haven't stopped following anyone - so if it looks as if I have stopped following you, then something else is happening - ????? I haven't done a thing on the computer -not even checked email -!-, other than the book giveaway posts, since Thursday night!

I am enjoying my travels - but I can't talk about it now...teehee... Hope you are all doing well - I miss my visits and 'talking' with you all - be back later!)

Book Give-away: Day 4, where's Kat?

Major Rivers - Tombigbee River, (name removed!), Tennessee River, Chattahoochee RiverMajor Lakes -Guntersville Lake, Wilson Lake, Martin Lake, West Point Lake, Lewis Smith LakeHighest Point - Cheaha Mountain - 2407 feet, (734 m) above sea level

Bordering States - Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, Tennessee

Bordering Body of Water - Gulf of Mexico

agriculture (cotton, corn, peanuts, soybeans, poultry, and livestock), hydroelectric power, mining (coal, limestone, iron ore), steel-making

There's a country band with this state's name as the band name!

Where am I?

Book Give-away day 3: where in the world is Kat ?

I have left Good Man Roger!

Oh, it's not what you think - I've only left him in the little log house, rocking on the porch to wait for me - so I could make a little journey. So my friends, if I can't always stop by to visit you, you will know why! I love a good road trip....


The name of its capital city is oftimes changed where three letters are replaced to call it HOT____...

Facts:
State Insect
Honey bee
State Reptile
Gopher tortoise
State Fish
Largemouth bass
State Shell
Knobbed whelk
Plant Symbols:
State Flower
Cherokee rose(Rosa laevigata)
State Wildflower
Azalea
State Tree
Live oak

Where am I?

Where is Kat? Book give-away Day 2

THE INSTRUCTIONS ARE POSTED ABOVE!

In another neighbor state.

State Capital - Columbia

Atlantic Ocean, Georgia, North Carolina
Time zone – Eastern
Total area – 31,189 square miles (40th largest state)Land area – 30,111 square miles (96.5%)Inland water area – 1,006 square milesCoastal water area – 72 square miles
Greatest distancesNorth to south – 219 milesEast to west – 273 miles

-----

The last of The Fishing Day, my over-sentimental little story:

“You shouldn’t think about all that stuff anymore. I don’t.” She holds out her hand, palm up, revealing a shiny purple-black rock that is flat and smooth with a dip in the middle. She takes her thumb and fits it perfectly inside the indention. “Look what I found.”

“I’ve never seen a rock like that.”

“Remember how you always told me that I’m unique? How there is no one like me anywhere else in the whole wide universe?”

“Yes. And it’s true,” The father says, nodding his head.

“I always liked that a lot.” She closes her hand around the rock, and then places it in the opposite pocket. She says, “It’s almost time to go.”

The father sees that only half of the sun peeks across the pond. The sky paints everything gold, red, and orange. “Already? Is it almost time already?”

The daughter receives the last light’s rays, the shine rushing out of her, inside out. “Yes, Daddy.”

The father breathes slowly in and out. He says, “Just a little more time?”

“Only a little more.”

The man clutches his stomach to ease the pain, but the burn only rises to his heart. He says in a near-whisper, “I didn’t do enough.”

“You loved me and that’s always enough. Remember that for me, okay Daddy?”

“I don’t know...”

“And remember that with Momma?”

“I’ll try.”

“Say you’ll more than try?”

“I’ll more than try. I’ll do it for you,” the father says with all the meaning he can.

“And for you. And for Momma.” The daughter sighs, the sound like the butterfly’s wings stirring the air.

Her smile glows so that the father memorizes every day of his daughter. He hears the echoes of their family in all the sounds of the day. And right then, as he stands with his daughter at the end of a good day, he knows he wants to hear his wife laugh again. He wants her to come home so they can remember all the days together.

“I think I’m ready now,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

They sit back down on the bank, their backs to the willow tree, just as they had done at the beginning of their fishing day. She says, “Close your eyes, Daddy. Close them tight tight.”

The breeze whispers, tickles his ear and is gentle as it lifts, lifts the little girl. The father waits until it is near dark, then picks up the purple-black rock and the three flowers and puts them in his pockets. He looks across, one more time, to the other side, and sees the shimmering light fade, then disappear.

THE END

Day One of book give-away: Where is Kat Magendie

THE INSTRUCTIONS ARE POSTED ABOVE!


...somewhere close by in a neighbor state, Haywood county borders this state!


The three stars on the flag represent the three different land forms in This State. Mountains in the east, highlands in the middle and lowlands in the west. On the flag these regions are bound together in an unbroken circle. The field is crimson with a blue background for the stars. The final blue strip relieves the sameness of the crimson field and prevents the flag from showing too much crimson when it is limp.



Where am I ?
------

next installment of short story The Fishing Day (only one more left!):


A butterfly drifts between them and the father first thinks it is a leaf. For as beautiful and graceful as the creature is, it seems to fly haphazardly, as if the wind lifts the wings in one direction and the next, pushing the light body where it does not want to go. Yet the butterfly gets to its destination despite the breeze. It lands on the father’s head and the daughter laughs, pointing at it, her other hand held over her mouth. She looks the same. But nothing will be the same ever again. He cannot force time to his will. The butterfly leaves the man, glides to a clover, and is still.

“Daddy? Do you want to know now?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Have I told you that I love you more than life itself?”

“Lots of times.”

The father is not sure if she is telling the truth. He remembers her disappointed looks when he came home late from work again and again. Sometimes she had already been sleeping, her face cleared of his mistakes. The man remembers every error, the biggest of them he hides behind the smaller ones.

The father says, “I’m sorry I was so angry when you broke my baseball trophy. That stupid trophy I got in junior high school.” He runs his fingers through his hair and the ends stand up from the fish slime still sticky on his hand. “How could I have become so angry with you over such silly things?” He has difficult time breathing and it feels as if his feet are sinking in the soft soil. He imagines if he stands here long enough, he will simply disappear into the earth.

“You already told me you were sorry, remember?”

The father does not hear her. He stares into the light of the sun, blinking into his blindness.

“You’re a good doctor, Daddy, and good doctors are busy.”

The father becomes agitated, gesturing in the air, reaching towards her and pulling back. He says to himself, “All those hours.” And he does not know if it is the lost ones or the ones to come that he is most sorry about.

“People worry about things that don’t really matter. It’s silly.” She bends down and plucks three clover flowers, smells them, and then puts them in her pocket. “I did stupid stuff. Like when I told you to get out of my room when you were only trying to say hello. It was that day Kelly called me a name and we weren't best friends anymore. I was mad at Kelly, but I yelled at you.” The daughter turns her attention to the shadows lengthening across the pond.

The father follows her gaze, silent a moment before he says, “The day you needed me most I was helping that little boy.” He watches a bird fly into the willow and disappear. “Your mother paged me, and I ignored her.”

“But you came. I smelled your soap when you bent over me and put the stethoscope on my chest. It made me feel safe.”

“Oh god.” The man puts his head in his hands and sobs, wide thin shoulders shaking. He lifts his head. “I’ve wanted to tell you these things for so long.”.... continued to ending tomorrow...

Book Give-away: where in the world is Kat Magendie?

Oh I am late today! I am frantic in working on some things - so everyone, please pardon me if I do not get by your places consistently for maybe a few days or so. And, I know as Tender Graces's release date approaches, I will become even more busy! Then when it gets here, more busy! And in between and around all that, I will have to sit my butt down (I can't wait!) and work on the second book--then I know I'll be scarce...but I know you all will understand!

That image is where my camera malfunctioned while I was photographing some tiny signs of spring. But, the "malfunction" is so beautiful and interesting, I kept it.

Today is the book give-away "contest" announcement. I am going to post the "instructions" at the top of my blog...teehee. Basically, if you want to "play" - for the next almost-week, I will be posting a "where is Kat?" hint, and you have to tell me where I am...the instructions will make it all clear, and those will be up later this evening....teeheehee -- you'll either have a good time, or throw up your hands and say "too much trouble!"

Now, I have to get busy. I'm already running behind on everything this morning! *muwah*

The next "installment" of The Fishing Day (almost at the end; I believe there are two more "installments" left):

....

The daughter turns to her father. “Do you need help?”

He shakes his head and straightens from his slump, pulling until the fish reveals itself in an explosion of water and sound. It arches and flops as he drags it onto the bank. Its gills open and close, the pink flesh beneath tender and sad as the fish tries to breathe. The father and daughter stare at its struggle. “Let’s get the hook out of it,” the father says as he bends down, the knees of his slacks soaking up the wetness from the bank.

“He’s trying to breathe out of the water, but he can’t.” The daughter watches the fish, its colors yellow, red, pale peachy pink.

The father works slowly to free the hook, frowning at the damage he has caused. The fish looks small and helpless now. It isn’t nearly as big as he had thought. “Oh, poor fish. I wish I had not caught it now.”

“Don’t hurt him,” she says, reaching out to the shimmering scales. The fish calms at her touch, and allows the father to pick it up and finally work the hook from its mouth. The daughter looks at the torn flesh. She looks at the father’s frown. She knows he will be okay. When he is released, he will heal. She knows much for her age, because of where she has been, and where she must return.

“I think we should put it back. What about you?”

“Yes, Daddy, let it go. It wants to be free again.”

The father gently places the fish into the water. At first, it does not react, but then with a shiver and flick of its tail, the creature swims off until it disappears into the murky lake, unseen, but there all the same.

“I bet he tells his friends about his adventure,” she says.

“He might. Unless he keeps it all to himself. He may not want anyone to know he was caught unawares and hurt like this. It may feel better to pretend it never happened.”

“What do you want to know, Daddy?”

The father gazes into the light, casting his face in shadow. He had not noticed how much the sun has descended. As he looks down at his daughter’s bright face, he wants to hug her close, but he can’t. He knows this is all that parents really want to do, hold their children safe so that they never come to harm. The father thinks of days when he swung his daughter up high, around and around, as his wife stood by laughing. His wife’s golden brown hair, caught up in two bobby pins to keep it off her tanned face, is a shorter version of their daughter’s. They had all three laughed like this every day it seems, even though he knows that is not real. But they had been happy and contented, this he knows is real... to be continued...

Rain Rain, Don't Go Away...my creek sings

I woke up Happy! The rain has made my creek sing happy and its roar is a welcome sound.

This Bizarro cartoon just makes me laugh.

I want to thank Kimmi and Eazy Cheezy for being brave enough to invite me as a guest on their blog. They gave me full rein and I made myself behave as best I could...smiling. Eazy has more guests this week, so check it out. Also, I wanted to point you to a blog I found through twitter - Mike's Writing Workshop. Scroll down and watch a utube about Hemingway and writing (not Hemingway talking, but images of The Man). There's more there to see, as well.

Tomorrow is the book give-away. And I have been throwing something back and forth in my pea-head brain, trying to decide if I should do it to you all -- heehee, or something much more simple...I'll wake up tomorrow and decide.

Now, here is the second "installment" of the short story The Fishing Day, of which I began in the post below. It's probably the most "simple" of stories I've written, but it's one of my favorites- I think because of the nature elements or maybe just the simplicity of it. It just is what it is, although it probably is a bit over-sentimental (which is why I won't submit it)...still...

.....

The daughter tugs on her father’s sleeve, or perhaps it is a breeze, so gentle the touch.

He asks, “Yes?”

“Don’t look so sad.”

He closes his eyes, and opens them, a slow blink. In that moment of darkness when his eyes were closed, he was afraid she’d leave again. She is still there. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

“We still have until dark to fish. It’s plenty of time.”

“I guess so.” The father watches the daughter’s profile as she looks across to the other side. Her eyes are sharper and she sees clearer than he does. He says to her, as he tries to see what she sees, “I just don’t want the day to end. Maybe the sun won’t fall today.” He scrubs his face with his big hand. “Maybe we can stay right here forever. We’ll fish, and then I’ll build a fire so we can cook the fish. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

The daughter jumps to her feet. “Look, Daddy! Your cork’s going under!”

At last, the father’s mouth pulls, tugs, and rearranges into a smile. A tight and unnatural feeling smile, but all the same, he is happy to show his daughter that tentative grin. He jerks back on the pole to set the hook. The daughter giggles when he quickly stands then slips on the soft earth of the bank and falls on his backside. He ignores his pain as he turns to his daughter and says, “It’s a strong one.”

“Hurry and pull it in.” The daughter is laughing now, and the sound of her laughter is musical, little chimes touching in the wind leaving behind their tones even when finally stilled.

“I can’t wait to tell your mother.” But when he says this, his shoulders drop in toward each other and the grin pulls back into its forever frown....

(to be continued)

Let me tell you bout the birds and the bees and sad stories under willow trees

I've decided to put up a little gentle short story - a bit at a time - I've always loved this little story. It's just something I wrote one day because I saw a man and child fishing, their backs to me, and I can't remember why this particular story needed to come out in the way it did. There's no place for it, really, so I will share it here. I'll put up a bit at a time, and it should take 4 or 5 days to have the complete story here. If you haven't been by Eazy Cheezy's place, I'm still there! And more guests will be coming 'round, too....

The next book giveaway "contest" is going to be on Thursday!

Here is the first section of "The Fishing Day"--

Their two backs face a weeping willow tree. Long wispy branches reach out to them as the breeze lifts things lighter than the heaviness. The sun is rising, illuminating what only a few hours before was hidden in shadow. The father shows his daughter how he baits the hook with a worm. She watches, her nose crinkles and so do her eyes—she is smiling because her father is smiling, because they have this day. The father’s shoulders are broad shoulders, but he is thin. The thin caused by unnatural loss of appetites. His once robust frame has wasted away over the months, and he cannot notice to care.

Strands of the daughter’s long brown hair, the kind that is never thick and wavy, but straight and delicate, blow like the willow branches, up and over, landing across the father’s arm as he bends toward her. He cannot feel the tickle of her hair as he concentrates intently on his task of baiting the hook. The tiny hook is sharp, and he accidentally pokes his finger with it, and watches as the blood beads quickly at the surface. The wound feels numb now, but he knows it will hurt later, throbbing in the middle of the night while he lies sleepless. The small puncture will spread inside, unseen, until it becomes infected, red and raw. He knows he will worry it at night, rubbing his finger against the bedsheets to stop the itching pain. For now, it does not matter, for the numb allows him to pretend it will not hurt later.

When at last the worm is threaded, the daughter throws out her line and watches as the cork bobs and then stills. She likes how the minnows swim up to investigate, then dash off, little silvers of light. Her father readies his own pole and casts the line, his cork landing farther out and away from his daughter’s line.

There are only nature sounds, the birds calling to each other, splashes from fish chasing the minnows, the occasional branch falling in the distance. Ducks glide toward each other, meeting in the middle to dip their beaks, their sleek reflections wavering on the pond’s glassy surface. A fat bee buzzes by, then turns back, circling the daughter’s head three times. Another bee, just as fat and black and yellow, joins it. With unseen wings, they quickly fly around her before racing off together. The daughter laughs. The father wants to laugh, but finds he can’t help but stare across the pond beyond the other side. His lips haven’t laughed in so long, they are stiff and unnatural feeling. He works them, trying to smile, trying to mold them back into the shape they used to be, when he laughed, smiled, and said I love you....

(to be continued...)

(image from fotosearch at google images)

PS - from Kimmi's place I saw her Wordle, so I had to do one (Angie - it reminds me of your poetry you did - the one for Dancer's Cap!) - I did mine - it's in the sidebar - pretty cool!)

Monday Monday...ain't gonna be here today....

(image is Lorelle Bacon's oil of "Spring Fever")

I'm over at Eazy Cheezy's place....as a guest blogger! He has entrusted me to his site this morning, *gulp*

Just last week, I was over to Kimmi's place.

I'm having a good ole time visitin' and guestin' *teehee* I think maybe later on I may want to have a few guests over to my place.

I also am planning another book give-away. I'll announce that soon - now, I got to get over to Eazy Cheezy's place! So, head on over there and say hi....maybe you'll want to be a guest blogger! Go here to read about it, and about upcoming guests.

Now, go DO the Day!

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swifly flows our days....

Ah, early morning.....are you an early riser?

Tomorrow I am honored to be a guest on Eazy Cheezy. He's extended an invitation to be a guest blogger there, so check it out at this LINK.

(photo of my mountain sunrise)

Now, I leave you with this, on your Sunday Morning: an awww and an awwwesome

First, another AWWWWWW moment (and if someone knows how to embed videos right into the post, I'd be ever so grateful to know how!)

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW FROM KAT

and the aww0000esome

AWOOOOOOOO! my brother sister wolves

Now everyone, have a wonderful Sunday.... What do you do on Sundays?

Getting to Know Us, getting to know all ablog us...

It's Saturday and time for "Getting to Know Us..." Where each week I introduce you all to someone in Blogland....

(Photo: "Little P")

Patresa Hartman - blog named "Biped Sideways" where she says, "i teach and write and think...with varying degrees of competency."

"P," as we call her, is not only a gifted writer, but a see'er of the world. I suppose we all are See'ers of the World, but some have an extra "something" that allows them to see things in the corners, where dust lies, or the little earring thing that keeps the earring on has settled in lost until found by someone with the right eyes--the corners of rooms are often over-looked, but not so with Patresa...she's a See'er of little things that when studied in a certain light really are Big Things (what would rooms be without corners!)--she will see the person in their parts: the half-untucked shirt, the eyelash on the cheek, the little babytoenail on a big woman's foot. Her unique outlook on life and people always amazes me.

I consider Patresa a good friend, a trusted colleague, and an all around interesting person. So, stop by P's place and give her a warm hello - tell her Kat sent you.

And (I almost forgot, I wanted to post two Getting to Know Us today)....

Author Alexandra Sokoloff's site The Dark Salon - I wanted to add this on this morning because I think many of you will be greatly helped in your writing life by her series of blogs on writing and story structure, etc -- she was an instructor at Deborah Leblanc's Pen to Press retreat, and, though my manuscript was already "done" - I received invaluable help and advice from her to make my synopsis so much better than it would ever have been without her- since remember how I've told you all, I suck at synposes! Alexandra is a beautiful woman--in all ways. She gives her gifts freely - a lot of work goes into these posts...and I hope you'll stop by her place and tell her Kat Magendie sent you!

Link Link Here and a Link Link There....

First! The delightful and beautiful Kimmi invited me as a guest to her blog, where I tried to spiffy myself up for her - she's had some really great guests, so I feel humbled, but proud to be there. Go by and visit - read her previous guests, take a look at her book soon to come out "The Unbreakable Child."

(Photo taken on my mountain walk this past summer- moon in tree!)


Meredith Lopez is a former Rose & Thorn staffer - I took over the newsletter duties after she had to go on a leave of absence. I never knew she wrote articles for The Huffington Post until I followed a link after she'd emailed me about something. So, those links you attach to your signature in your emails really do work.

I stumbled across The Anonymous Publishing Venting Club. Lucky for me, I don't have a thing to post there, for Bellebooks is a dream to work with. Interesting to read, though, about other's experiences.

I can't remember when I put up the link to my Woman Inside Out story on Sotto Voce if I'd also included Nannette Croce's "Zuni the Pueblo Dog" story. So, just in case, here it is. If you enjoy it (and I'm betting you will!) vote for her to be included in a print anthology.

I'd bookmarked this from Folio Lit Agency on Query letters and then forgot about it, until today when I saw it while looking for another link. So, maybe something they say will help you with your query letter, and maybe, like me, you'll still detest the query letter, and as well, you'll read the first two paragraphs and think, "They just don't get it - don't get the idea of why even really good writers with good books still hate to write query letters (and synopses)." But, read and see what you think.

I love Java Logs - and am having a hard time finding them...dang it all. They're those "cheat logs" you use in your fireplace when you aren't lighting a real fire - and they are made from coffee grounds!

The Pen Guy!

An article on lay versus lie by Martha Brockenbrough

Childhood chants and taunts - yup someone has a website where they compiled all kinds of stuff about those kinds of things. I stumbled on it while doing research on something for Tender Graces - I am a stickler for making sure I have things in the right era or whatever.

I haven't seen this - but there is a lot of hurt feelings and anger and talk about Diane Sawyer's Children of the Mountains. When I wrote Tender Graces, which is about an appalachian mountain family in WVA (and with South Louisiana in there, too), I didn't want those stereotypes to be what my story was "about" - I didn't want the stereotypes to be a Character in the novel - and I hope I was successful. There are always some "stereotypical" behaviors or characters in a work, I suppose, but I hope I celebrated a proud people as much as I could, even when bad things happened: but, they really are universal behaviors. WVA is my homestate and I love the mountains and its people. From reading some of the comments about this show, there are tender hurts and anger over the portrayal of a Proud Mountain People--I think most of it has been centered around Kentucky (so far? or only? I don't know yet). I haven't seen the show, only a few clips, so I cannot comment as of yet. But, I do hope there isn't exploitation of what is always only a portion of who a People are - we'll see. But, my hope is when people read Tender Graces, they know I wrote out of love and that I know there is much much more to a Mountain Folk - they are complicated and proud and lovely.

Now - visit some links, and then Go Do The Day!


PS! I'm adding something -- Reduce Footprints has two videos - the first one made me LAUGH! the second one is an Earth-Green video about turning out lights around the world on 3/29

This is a few of my favorite things...

[At least one of my little envelopes with mountain thoughts was torn asunder and some of the contents lost to the winds! Oh sigh. But, now I wonder who will find the cherokee tear and buckeye - where were they lost and who said, "hey, what's this?" picked them up and put them in their pocket? ]

(Photo taken from my porch)

Last night the coons came, not caring of the winds and rain. There were three of them: two small ones and then Boo Boo. Boo Boo, named just because one night I just called out "oh boo...hey boo boo~!" and it stuck, is an old fat raccoon with lots of gray. I love her. Two young ones were perched on the squirrel feeders - (imagine it is like we are in a treehouse where we are level with the middle or near-tops of some trees, not the ground). Boo Boo was on the railing. Soon, we heard the squabbling and laughed when we saw Boo Boo on the feeder - she'd chased those young coons away and took up her spot!

As I was sitting here, I leaned back and the sun caught my left eye...this time of year, the sun is over the far right ridge, and it will make its way back to the left. From where I sit, If I look slightly to the left, I can see those distant mountains out my window. I am in a leather chair with the laptop perched. My coffee cup filled with Deep Creek Blend, black, is on a coaster that sits upon a small table that looks like stacked books. There is a pen/pencil holder that looks like books. There are shelves full of books and rocks and photos and pieces of small bark and interesting vases or vessels and some small gifts from friends, and et-cetera.

I have a soft throw over my legs. Fat old labrador Jake is snoring. There is a rug with natural fibers we bought at World Market and on top of the rug is a cow-hided ottoman. There are books and books and more books. Our ceiling fan is rustic, so is the small lamp on the book table. There are many things I love in this room where I work. I am in here many hours. There are bookmarks - for I love bookmarks. Another small table that looks like a book. I see out the door a piece of the hallway leading to the rest of the little log house, and a framed piece of art we bought long ago that is filled with jazz images. If I turn my head farther to the left, I see the ridge across the cove. But closer, I see two of the rocking chairs on our porch right outside the two windows. While typing this, Sun has already moved away from my eye but still leaves its glance on the porch, and on the wood window blinds.

What do you see as your write this morning? What surrounds you?

I see friends shaking cyber-hands, saying how dee do...

I had so much fun with the guess that song/singer book give away -I'm going to have to do something like that again soon. But, Lawd! Mr. Twinkley Eyed postman is going to wonder about me! Sending lumpy envelopes all over nationally and internationally. I was happy for the donation of books by Bellebooks! Thing is, the more I mailed my rocks and buckeyes all over the place, the happier I felt. Pieces of my mountain going here, there, and yonder. Makes me smile knowing someone opens an envelope, takes out a rock, looks at it and thinks of my ancient mountains; or, takes out a buckeye and rubs the smooth seed with their thumb, maybe putting it in their pocket for good luck.

I'm leaving this with you. One of my favorite songs - and just how I'm feeling right this moment... and I couldn't figure out how to get it embedded here in a post, so...sit in your favorite chair with your coffee, or whatever, and watch with me:

CLICK HERE FOR A SMILE AND AN AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW FROM KAT

Summertime....and the guessin' wasn't eeeasssy.....Bloggers was jumpin' and landin' off the mark *laughing*

Okay, Barbara from The Serenity Gate got it right! Billie Holiday singing Summertime was what I had in mind as I wrote that scene. Virginia Kate interprets Billie's singing as deep and rusty -- the words "deep and rusty" probably threw people off - not "deep" as in how we always think, I guess -but how a girl would think deep and rusty is.

I was about to wet my drawers, jumping up and down, going "oh oh oh!" when y'all were so close *laughing*

Here is beautiful Billie Holiday's rendition of SUMMERTIME

Barbara - email me where you want me to mail your copy of Deborah Smith's ON BEAR MOUNTAIN

Now, go listen to Billie sing Summertime (link above) - don't you hear that "rusty edged" voice - that sound of Deep rivers where catfish jump?

The cool part of all this is I can see how my words were interpreted in different ways by you all choosing different songs and singers! *smiling* so, I'll just leave the words "deep" and "rusty" and let it be. What's also interesting and cool is you all gave me other ideas that work really well for interpretation of that scene! Like, stormy weather, god bless the child, et cetera!

this was wonderful! Thank You all!

Congrats Barbara~!

(google image from jazz.appspot.com)

Yes the mountain's high enough, and the valley's low enough...

I'm going to do a quicky for the book give-a-way this morning.

The book for todays give-away is "On Bear Mountain" by Deborah Smith--a signed brand spanking new copy.

About "On Bear Mountain" -

From Publishers Weekly: A hillbilly girl from Georgia and a rebellious Brooklyn boy find out the hard way that some family ties bind tighter than others in this highly readable novel by the author of A Place to Call Home. Ursula Powell lives in the shadow of the Iron Bear, a sculpture commissioned by a distant relative for a local college campus as a tribute to the ursine presence in Bear Creek, Ga. Fashioned by a New York artist from scrap metal donated by local families, the Bear sparks a smoldering feud between the poor, chicken-farming Powells and their wealthier chicken-processing-plant cousins, the Tibers. When the Tibers threaten to trash the Bear, Ursula's father scrapes together money the family can ill afford to install the sculpture in the Powell pasture. Resenting her father for the hardship she believes he has brought on the family, scrappy Ursula grows up fighting class oppression and backwoods superstitions. Meanwhile, Quentin Riconni, son of the artist who created the Bear, also grows up resenting his father. Quentin and his mother live in poverty in Brooklyn, while the senior Riconni devotes himself to his unprofitable art upstate. Not until 20 years after Quentin's father's death are his sculptures applauded, earning millions of dollars for his widow and son. When Quentin discovers that the Bear is owned by the Powells, he sets out on a journey of self-discovery fated to include Ursula.

To win this book - here's all you have to do. I have one signed copy, so the first one to figure it out gets it:

In Tender Graces, Virginia Kate hears Momma's radio - she says: Momma next went to the kitchen and ice rattled cold. Then soft music floated into my room and a woman sang deep and rusty, like summertime.

What song is Virginia Kate (and Momma) listening to? Who is singing it?

First one who guesses right - receives Deborah Smith's "On Bear Mountain."

Pour me another cup of coffee....

Ah - Here's to Coffee! (Make mine Deep Creek Blend- roasted right here in our little mountain town by Smoky Mountain Roasters).

Yup, the first thing I do is get up, make the bed (I used to be an avid non-bed-maker-upper, but I'm back to the days when my mother didn't let us get by with an unmade bed - no way!), wash the sleepy from my face, put in my contacts, pour my coffee, sit in my leather chair in the little library room where I can see the distant mountain, and sip sip sip rich dark black hot coffee while I open up my laptop and begin ....

What's your morning rituals? And, are you a bed maker upper?

A few of you have already said you like the frienship ball idea; so, I am going to start that friendship ball rolling! I have some things to mail today, so while I'm doing that, and visiting my friendly little mountain post office (I wonder if the twinkly-eyed postman will be there asking me what's in my envelopes?), I'll be sending the friendship ball on the first part of its journey.

And I'm happy because I have books from Bellebooks that they have so generously donated to me for my book give-a-ways! I just opened the box and was excited to see all those beautiful covers, all those beautiful books. I can't wait to see Tender Graces "in the flesh."

So, come by tomorrow and I'll have something here for you to have a chance to get a new book. It may be just something quick and fun.

Kimmi has a guest blogger - go by and have a good laugh!

Later gators....

Sunday Sunday, you can trust that day....by gratitud-ing it.

Oh. Quiet Sunday! Ritual Sunday! It's 9AM and I'm in my robe waiting for Good Man Roger to come back up the mountain with the paper--so I can read the comics and the circulars (haw!). Then we'll have a speck of biscuit or maybe we'll get fancy schmancy and make french toast out of the bread he made (yup, he cooks! wheehaw! I'm spoilt.)

Look at that cartoon! Sometimes that's how I feel I am. Sometimes we become steeped in negative thinking. Well, when you think, actively THINK about what you are grateful for, no matter how small those things are, something magical happens.

Angie reminded me how I wanted to mention our YOG (no, I'm not either copy-catting!) Click HERE if you've ever a mind to go check out our 2008 daily Got YOG (year of gratitude) posts (along with a few guests)-sometimes it was hard to write them-sometimes we were angry, mad, sad, etc. But, those posts brought gratitude to us in unexpected ways. We wrote about losing our dog friend, losing someone we loved - or fearing that impending loss, about storms in life and in love and in nature, about the ironies of life and family, about friendships, about menopause, about wrinkles, about food and ritual, about time past and time to come.

The link, below, was my very first YOG that started out the year. Now y'all go have a great Sun'dy. What're you doing here? Go DO the day!

Breathe in the air, breathe out the gratitude

...I think of days when I was hungry, when I didn’t have enough money to pay the bills, when I had to decide between having enough gas to get to work or going to the doctor, when I cried in the closet so no one would see me weakened by worry. Gratitude is harder when there seems little to be thankful for—except for the act of living and breathing and surviving. And now? I pay my bills, there is food in the pantry, I go to the doctor if I am sick and have the gas to get there and back. My closet holds clothes and shoes, not a sobbing woman...

And - while you're still here~! -- go check out HANDS & HEARTS - Mónica Zúñiga is having a give-a-way contest of her breathtaking painting in celebration of her blog anniversary!

(google image from cartoonstock.com)

Getting to Know Us - Getting to Know all About Us....

I thought last night how wonderful a group of people we have round these here blogging lands. How supportive we are of each other. How we make each other laugh, cry, think, believe, join in, and et - cet-era et cetera et cetera!

So, on Saturdays I'd like to have a "getting to know us" post. And of course, anyone who wants to join in can. It's just a way of expanding just a little further/farther from blog to blog. Some of us visit all the same places, and some do not. (If right now you are reading this and thinking, "I hope she doesn't mention me, I like staying in my quiet corner of the blog world without any fingers pointing my way "- please let me know in the comments or email me!)

So my first Getting To Know Us starts off with Debbie at Suburb Sanity. Shes "a 46 year old married mom to 17 year old boy/girl twins as well as 15 and 11 year old sons. I love blogging about the crazy things in my life...and yours."

But Debbie is of course more than that. She's funny and ironic and mischievous, and though she'll go "pah, stop it..." when I say this, but she's also a nice person - warm and witty and kind. Debbie and I think we may have some of the same distant Kin....running around in bare-feet saying wise but awkward things while keeping downwind from the outhouse.

But, go by yourself if you haven't already, say a big "howdy do" to Debbie, and get to know her better.

Ta ta for now, everyone! Muwah! Have a wonderful Sat'dy ...

(google image from Debbie's place, and from one hundred and fifty cartoon friends)

Let me tell you about the...no not the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees, but links!

Friday is links day! And I’ll soon be by to visit you all. I love reading the comments – they come in my hotmail account and I laugh and smile and all that jazz. Then I come here and read them again *laughing*

…yesterday I spent all day on line by line edits of Tender Graces. It’s tedious work, but it has to be done and it’s an important part. Besides just typos and the like, there may be a question or clarification or two I have to address--luckily, I don't have but a few small things to deal with, for I had TG honed and honed by time it was sent to Bellebooks. I am much focused when I am working and try not to go to my emails or blog unless I take a short break. So again, I will have to apologize if I become distracted these next days!

Thanks for reading Woman Inside Out. It’s funny how some of my short stories turn out more bleak or raw or quirky-weird or whatever than my novels. TG is much more hopeful, more innocent, more...well, tender! I seldom write as starkly about marriage in the novels (so far); the marriages are always seen from “afar” or from the point of view of a kid/teen or whatever.

Okay....Links:

This is an interesting site. You can go vote your answer about grammar or sentence structure or whatever and later the answer is revealed at the sentence sleuth.

Duotrope Digest is a great clearinghouse to find places for your work.

I just love Vagabondage Press’s new cover art! I haven’t read their new issue yet. (They published my “Moonshine & Santy Claus” piece in their December issue and I love them for taking a chance on that quirky story! )

The Rose & Thorn has a podcast site, where you can listen to the stories or poetry. I think it’s pretty cool and I feel it gets lost and unnoticed!

Animal Planet animal solitaire game!

The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar – love this site! I want a t-shirt and I keep forgetting to order one *laugh*

I stumbled across this. I have to read it all myself, having just skimmed it, but it talks about synopsis writing. Maybe it'll give some insight for you if you need to write a synopsis.

1940’s fashion and etc…. I do research to make sure I’m getting the fashions of that day correct. I'm a stickler for getting things right! I hate laziness in that respect - I feel I owe it to readers to do my best to be accurate on as many things as I can, or why bother including them? I was looking for 50s/60s fashion at the time (for the TG book, since it spans many years), but came across that link, too, so I kept the bookmark, for something later I’m writing in the Virginia Kate series!

I received my business cards from Zazzle and I am very happy with them. They did a great job. So much to choose from. They were fast, too.

I think that's enough for now. Now everyone - take a deep breath, fill those lungs - let it out slooowwwwww ...then think about a memory (even if it was five minutes ago) that makes you feel happy ...that makes you calmed...that gives you peace. Think about that, breathe in and out, in and out - let that memory fill you up - positive positive positive energies...(I'm talking to you, too, M!)...now go do the day.

This is why all the girls in town follow him all around..all a-round!

Tee hee - I'm feeling all flattered and all a-blushed

My talented and handsome author friend, Bosnian turned Swede Adnan Mahmutovic, wrote up something on his Under the Midnight Sun blog after reading my Woman Inside Out story -- I feel all special now, I told him - "it's all like I have been put under a light that shines me more than what I am"....that's how he makes me sound, as if I am a better writer than I am. Here are his words about my story. Thank you Adnan. *smiling*

I find it interesting to see how others interpret a story. Like, will a woman read it differently than a man? Will someone else think she did not sleep with the young man who approaches her in the mall? What is the signifcance of the ending? I wonder these things - for sometimes the answers are pliable in stories and novels. If you read it, tell me what you thought about those things - if you don't mind - I really am curious.

(A P.S. - Woman Inside Out is a bit more "contemporary" than TG and my gentle Virginia Kate - the first paragraph in WIO is a little stark, so I'll warn anyone who clicks on it that you may, or may not, feel a little bit shocked at the wording?)

Anyway, look for more for Mahmutovic (his novella will be out soon - and more)- he is a beautifully gifted writer and an insightful reviewer (not meaning my stuff, for he reviews much more important and bigger writers than I could ever hope to be) - whatever he reads, he lifts it up to a higher level; whatever he writes, he is no less transcendental, but there is that raw edge - where he takes something that could very well be so very bleak and makes it into something tragically beautiful. (As an aside, if anyone wants one of his REFUGE[E] books the Rose & Thorn is giving them away for a $10 donation. Here's a review of the book.) If you just do not like to donate to magazines, or times are tough - I do have a few copies of his book and will send you one - email me.

I'm in the line editing phase of Tender Graces - which is why I may seem scattered and scarce. AND! here is something exciting! Bellebooks and I are talking about the future books of Virginia Kate's life! That means more Virginia Kate after Tender Graces! Yayyy! I already have the draft of the second book written and hope to finish that by summer so it can go in the works to be published next year - keep your fingers crossed it all works out. I've always wanted to do a series of books about Virginia Kate and her family. I'm excited and terrified! *laugh*

I'm enjoying all the comments and the thoughts on rocks - and some rocks will be going back and forth between places to and fro *laughing* - more on that later.

Namaste.

Hey wait a minute Mr. Post man...Why I don't live at the P.O. A true Story

So. I get the addresses and prepare to send my little "thank you thoughts," along with "More than a mother's" BRIDA. And, thank you guys for entrusting me with your Realness - *smiling* ....anyway, I wanted to get everything in the mail soonest because I'm impatient like that, and because of snow and I may be housebound for a few days...or not...who knows.

I gather together some things, and some envelopes, and the addresses, throw them in my huge bag, and I head off the mountain into the valley to stop at Jelly Bellies (a cute little place to buy tourist stuff) and I pick up a few little tiny items, but they don't have all that I want-dang!...so, I leave with my few little purchases, and it's snowing. I sit in my car and start stuffing things in the envelopes fast as I can- oh geez! the envelopes are smaller than I thought (except for yours More than a mother!)....well, too late - I'm off the mountain, the envelopes are already addressed...

I go to the post office in the next town since my little town's PO closes from 1-2. While there, add extra tape to the bulging tiny envelopes with the stuff in them. I step to the counter and pile the envelopes there. The postman picks up the first one, More than a Mother's, and feels it. He looks at me. Then he puts the postage on it, going waaayyy off somewhere that's not the US. Then he picks up a little envelope, going waaay off somewhere that isn't the US, and then another going waayyy off outside the US, then he starts in on the US tiny envelopes. He feels each one and looks at me.

Finally, he said, "What is this bumpy thing?"

I answer, "A buckeye from my mountain."

"A buckeye? Are you from Ohio?"

"Huhn?"

"You know, Ohio Buckeyes...."

"Um, no...these are buckeyes from my buckeye tree on my mountain - my special buckeye tree! Here in WNC! "

Mr Postman says, "Wale, don't you'uns think these people (he holds up some envelopes) may have a buckeye tree around where they live and don't need your buckeyes from your mountain?"

I say, "Um, I don't know. Well, anyway I told people I was sending something from my mountain and...."

Feels feels. "Wait, what else is in here? This ain't just a buckeye in here!"

"Um, well, there's a rock in them, too...you know, from my creek or from a mountain walk...I think some people got a cherokee tear and then I ran out, dang, I need more cherokee tears - the others may have wanted a cherokee tear - shoot...Although this one and this one could prolly get their own...and..hmmmm..."

Tap Tap Tapping of tiny bulging envelope. "You'uns sending rocks, too?" Eagle-eying me.

Me, "Well...yes, and some of them might have something else, if I remembered to put things in the right places and all...and..well....some bookmarks of the mountains...."

"Don'choo think these persons who lives HERE and HERE may already know what a mountain looks like and don't need your bookmark with a mountain on it cause they know what a mountain looks like...? Especially THIS one..." (holds up an envelope).

"Um...well, yeah, but....see, these are ...the rocks and buckeyes are from MY cove...and the bookmarks were purchased from good ole Maggie Valley and I think it wasn't mountains, I think it was waterfalls or something..um ..you know? I mean...um..."

He pea-eyes me, says, "So, let me get this here straight - you are spending (this amount) to send buckeyes and rocks all over the world? huhn well...I'll be..."

"I think there may be a keychain or a magnet in a couple of them....um...if I remembered to put them in there..." Me fumbling in my gigantic Betty Boop purse to see if I lost any rocks, or buckeyes, or a keychain, or Cherokee tears that didn't make it into those tiny bulging envelopes....I fear someone may not get all I meant for them to get! oh! Oh! "Yeah, just little thoughts, you know?...um..."

"Uh huhn." he feels an envelope. "What's this? it feels flat and kinda soft."

"Um, it's a piece of bark."

"A piece of Bark....."

"Well, one of the people said they like nature and things from nature on the mountain, so I....put....a piece of....um....bark in there....with moss on it...."

"Wale, uh huh. I see..." (but his eyes says he doesn't see).

He busies himself putting them all in the bin to go out, feeling each one again before he throws them in the piles, takes my money, grins at me, and then says, "You have a good day now, Ma'am!"

I say, "You, too! See you later!"

I slide on out the door...not turning around to see if he's staring at me with that quirked up grin and twinkly eyes.

I walk out into a furious falling snow, get in my Subaru, and drive home with snow slamming my windshield - and I never felt happier. Pieces of my mountain going all over the world - even if they are tiny pieces, even if the person can get their own rocks or their own buckeyes, they don't have one from Killian Knob! Ha! And some of the buckeyes even have little indentions to rub your finger like a worry stone--that's what I do as I walk the mountain. And the rocks are ANCIENT rocks - yeah! from some of the oldest mountains in the world--The Smoky Mountains! ha! Yeah! I humm... la tee dah - I drive back to my little cove and go inside my warm little log house. All is well.

(google image of postman pat www.theplayshack.co.uk)

On the day that I was born....la la la tee dah...

NOTE FROM KAT! I'm laughing at myself - I kept wondering "why are people wishing me a happy birthday?" then I looked back over my post and the title *laughing!* what a dummy I am -- Okay, today isn't my birthday - it's actually later this month....but, I'll accept birthday wishes and chocolate and gifts and botox for my forehead butt and.....laughing....*knock on my head*

When I get up in the morning, it's log in log in log in log in check this check that...I think I have too many places to go and people to see *laugh* ... but while I'm doing that, sometimes I'll come across the MSN page or Google page and see something that'll distract me/catch my eye and send me off on a tangent so that I "waste" part of my morning.

Like....what moon were you born under? here's mine: On the day you were born, the Moon was in Capricorn. Your emotional nature is very earthy and direct. You use caution before you show your feelings to someone, since you fear rejection. But you shouldn't! You have loyalty and love to offer a romantic partner, you take care of your family members, and you have a very dry and witty sense of humor with those who know you.

And, while I was thinking about being born, I put "1957" in google just to see what would show up.

I was feeling silly then, and just out of curiosity, I typed "my toe" into google...

Then I went by the Dream Dictionary and looked for "Giant Chicken" but it wasn't there! Humph. Well, dang it all, guess I'll never figure out the meaning of the giant chicken dream. However, when I googled about giant chicken dreams (which was interesting and in some cases a bit disturbing), I found where apparently someone else had a giant chicken in their dream! ha!

Then I read how the planet Uranus was first named George. Huhn. So. I guess it was the knowledge that in classrooms everywhere children would twitter whenever the teach would say, "And the planet Uranus..." *twitter twitter wink wink - did you hear that, she said ur-anus...twitter twitter*... no one thinks George is very funny or even very interesting - sorry George's of the world - it's a perfectly fine name, just not for a planet I suppose.

What kinds of places do you like to browse? Any funny or interesting sites you want to share?

Okay, I need to get to work now -but first, I'll come round visting!

(I have a story up, too *smiling* on Sotto Voce...something a little different from my usual.)

Photographs and brain-memories...

Voting is over! More Than Just A Mother will receive the copy of Paulo Coelho's BRIDA. Thanks everyone - it was so much fun and I was honored to have your words on my blog - beautifully done...Brava All!

Nothing remains static. The world turns with all our energies both expelled and absorbed from pre-beginning to after-end; we become a part of a greater energy. Everything is pulsating, a part of each other. So how could something so dynamic not change and morph? Even require it. There is The Good Change, and there is The Bad Change. And then there are the snapshots filed away in drawers, albums, and the parts of the brain made just for remembrance.

I have this brain-snapshot shouting loud. It comes uncalled and unbidden, but it comes. It is winter, and the snow is falling, blanketing an already white-washed world. The backdrop is sepia-toned, shades of black and white with that tinge of old-timey photograph brown. I am dressed warm, and by my side are my husband and my two dogs. We’re on the Muse Trail, Level Two. I have my camera and I’ve set it to video and as I turn 360 degrees, I say, “Isn’t this lovely? Isn’t this the best life ever? Don’t you wish you were me?” My dogs, off their leashes, run in the snow, their paws kicking up sprays of snow and arcs of ice that hover for just a moment before falling back down to earth; some catch prisms. The branches are laden with snow and some hang heavy, ready to smack a head and sent showers of cold upon them. We walk in the most perfect silence ever: you know the silence? The one that muffles footsteps, but makes bird calls ring so clear through the air that you hear it in perfect pitch. Changes came that make the memory one I am grateful for, even as I wish for the day back, Human that I am. Yet, would the memory stand in such sharp gorgeous relief if the changes had not altered it beyond repair? No. I’d have taken it for granted, knowing I could have that feeling over and over again. That Perfect Day has become one I feel the most profound sense of gratitude for. I miss my old dog - my old girl, Kayla. Simple and as complicated as that.