The Short Adventure Begins

Tomorrow my sister and I leave for Missouri. The trip to Lee's Summit is about 13 hours. She and I have been a bit estranged for several years, so this will be illuminating and perhaps freeing.

Her vehicle will be packed with stuff, lots of it presents and fun stuff for the kids and the Kickers, my brothers' band. And us and two dogs.

We have music, lots of it from Texas, and some audio books, which I've never listened to. Jack Reacher. I do read a lot and love Jack, so it will be fun to experience being read to aloud like a kid again.

Back at the LS home of my older brother, he and his wife are preparing for the onslaught. At least 14 of us will spend most of the time there...whew! Purple hearts all around. But it's big with a huge yard, so it'll be fine and fun.

My younger brother will be there. He has never met his daughter-in-law or his two wonderful granddaughters from Georgia. He's truly psyched. "Marsha, I can't sleep. This is gonna be the best week of my life!" He turns 60 in July. Hope he's right.

With luck, I'll come back with great memories and some good photos that we will always treasure.

Fingers crossed!


   

Frantsen Family Reunion

Summer in Missouri. What was I thinking??

I was thinking people would be likely to get at least a couple of days off in a row, rather than just a single weekend, so we could all spend varying amounts of time on varying days reconnecting.

I think we'll have about 22-25, especially if friends come for the celebration bash. It'll be wild, but everyone's psyched and been duly threatened to mind their behavior. Or else there'll be hell to pay.

My sister and I will hove off in her car a week from tomorrow, with her two dogs and a vehicle full of clothes, etc. We'll either be okay or not; I think we'll be fine. I'll certainly do my part to see to it that we are.

The last time we four "original" children were together was when Dad died in 1997. A couple of the nephews came, too. In between, I've seen just about everyone, but only because I traveled. Still missing some, though -- wives and kids not met yet. Should be a great adventure.

Some of the "second" layer kids haven't seen their brothers/sister in a couple of decades. Close family, huh? Not. It'll be a revelation; hope no revolution.

Dear Diary....sigh. TBC.

195 to 199

The title indicates how many pages long, max, a thriller/suspense/murder mystery book should be. Period. Unless the true author remains true to his or her style and soul. 

I trade books (real ones) with a couple of people who enjoy mainly the same type of reading. It's fun; I've discovered lots of new authors and found myself some new series to investigate and keep reading.

The books are mostly too long, and not because I don't like long books. I love them. But here's what happens: the story is great, moving right along and then boom. Around page 200, it seems the editor hands the book over to a romance novel writer and says: "We can't sell a book this short; read the story and add to it until we have 350-500+ pages so we can ask people to pay $7.99 to $13.99 for a paperback." And they do, and they ruin it. 

Even John Grisham seems to phoney it in these days. I'm currently reading 13 1/2 by Nevada Barr. She had me going great with this psychological suspense story up until, yep, you guessed it—right about page 200. Suddenly I'm reading  overdone descriptions of places and people and schlock like "...on the page in Red's sepulcher" and about hearts pounding bruisingly against ribs.

Huh? I'm a smart girl with a fine grasp of both vocabulary and good writing, and, if I had cared, I would have gone to the dictionary to look up "sepulcher." However, I didn't do that, because I was pissed.

Rule 1: if your writing sends your reader to a dictionary, find another word. A short, easily understandable one so their reading and supposed enjoyment of your book is not interrupted.

I was girl, interrupted, and William F. Buckley is dead.

If the story has interested me until then, I skim the rest to get the gist and climax and resolution. And I mark on my growing list of what I've read that this author is now to be accepted warily into the fold. Three strikes, they're out.

(Okay, just so you don't have to and I am not guilty of the same, "sepulcher" means, essentially, a tomb or resting place for the dead. Can be a noun or a verb, e.g., "If a book bores me or pisses me off, I sepulcher it to the sepulcher of bad writing.")

Life is too short and there are too many books to choose among to read crap you don't like.

And if you like romance novels, great! However, their authors and editors don't cross over well as writer/editors in suspense novels. And if an author is both, beware the "poisonous plant with fast-growing vines" that mixing genres and styles in the same book nourishes...as it kills.
 
 

One of Those Fried Days

It was a wild and wacky week at work. Home alone and tired — and happy to be both. So I watered the lawn and read a bit and fell asleep in my comfy reading/napping chair.

I woke up at 8:53. OMG!! I was late for work! I am always the first one there — by 7 a.m. — because I'm an early riser. The early bird. (So shoot me. I like worms.) And at my age, I NEVER oversleep.

So I called the office and voicemail answered — our Executive Director. OMG!!! She wasn't in and neither was my coworker! But wait. That couldn't be right.

Oh. It was Saturday morning. Whew.

OMG!!!! I had to be at Walmart in 30 minutes to meet a volunteer and sell raffle tickets. I hadn't even had a shower!!!

Ran into the bathroom and turned on the water. Peeled out of my clothes. And realized it was Fried-Day night. OMG. Whew again.

Who could sleep after that?

I'll probably oversleep. Again. Which I never do.

June

Well, they hauled off and piped in our open irrigation ditch, practically without notice. I was not happy. I LOVED that little concrete stream of constant river water all summer long. We still have the water, but we can't see it or hear it.

Now it's just dirt. The trees along it are gone; the river rock border is gone; it's all gone. I guess after grass—or at least something green—grows, it'll be fine and much easier to keep mowed and neat looking. Seems small consolation now.

So, what's good, you might ask. I have sold some stuff, finally breaking the procrastination. However, didn't sell much and the venue I used did not work out. Still, it was a psychological and emotional triumph; I started and made a little money and don't miss what I sold. Even my oak secretary desk I've had for 50 years. Yikes. Everything must go!!

For now, summer is getting into full swing here in the high desert. Watering, mowing, cleaning up, and fixing things that need it. Always something!

My sister and I will drive back to Missouri (hoping for the best, not misery) at the end of June/4th of July to visit our family. We have all been a bit estranged, so it will be a good time to reconnect...or it will be the longest road trip and visit of all our lives!

We have nieces and nephews and spouses and their kids that we have never even met. It's a family reunion with the four of us Frantsen Firsts also coming back together for the first time since Dad died in 1997. Should be about 21 of us, and we'll have old friends drop by, too. First Grandson Ben will drive over from Georgia with his wife and two daughters. The others all still live in MO. Should be a grand time. We'll see....

At the very least, it'll be one for the books. Our get-togethers always are, in one way or another, and not always the most fun or pleasant. Maybe we've all grown up a bit and can make it good for everyone. Then it's up to the Next Gen to keep on keeping on and staying in touch...or not.