UPDATE: The winner is…Jennifer Beyer!
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Contest Reminder!

Here’s a quick reminder that there are still two open contests running on this blog! Be sure to enter while you can!

1. Story Cubes — Tell me a story (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Flashback: Cochise (Contest–3 Winners! Plus an Excerpt!) — Win a free book!

Office Chaos

So, if you’ve been paying attention to this blog, you know that we lost my mom on January 10th. Now, while we wait for probate to move along, my daughter is moving into the house.

We thought we’d have a little time for an organized move, which included me downsizing my footprint inside the house. I had three rooms—a bedroom/living room area, a large craft room (which was a hoarder’s dream filled with every art supply imaginable!), and an office. I am giving up my office (I volunteered it!) so that all of my dd’s children will have their own bedroom.

The problem? I have too much stuff. And I don’t want to give up a thing. Although, over the last weeks, I have filled trash bags to take to the donation center and the dump. Still, I have too much stuff.

We now have permission for my dd to move in. So she has shifted into high gear. Her first priority? Clearing my office so she can move her son’s things in. This is what it looks like when you cram two rooms of things into one when you don’t have time to skinny everything down first. My basement craft room is filled to the ceiling. The only spot of calm in the entire room is the picture my dd framed for me on the wall above my desk of “Satan Resting on the Mountain” from Milton’s Paradise Lost by Gustave Dore. It’s almost like he’s looking down at me and laughing.

But wait. That’s just one side of the room. It gets worse!

And I didn’t take a picture of what is behind me…

So, as you can see, I have an enormous problem. If I had a week of dedicated time and minions to do the physical work, I could get it done. Maybe. As it is, I have a book to finish, one editing job due by the 10th, more scheduled to come in the door soon, and stories to read for the next Bad Boy anthology. Work is priority #1.

I will only have an hour or two a day to dedicate to making my workspace liveable, and I’ve hired my dd’s oldest girl to be my minion (she’s saving for a car, so very willing!).

Today, my only goal is to clear my desk…

Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, how about you give me suggestions or calming mantras. And no, “load it into a trash can” advice, because my dd says that every time she walks into this awful space!

The winner is…Dawn Roberto!
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Still Happenin’

These are open contests! Enter while you still can!

1. Tell me a story… (Puzzle & Contest) — Ends tomorrow night! Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Tara Lain: Why I don’t need a doorbell… (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

And take advantage of this offer before it goes away!

Enter the Danger Zone! $0.99 Sale! — Get a copy of Dangerous Liaisons for just $0.99 while the sale lasts!

This week…

Today’s the 26th. Nearly the end of the month. A lot has happened that doesn’t bear repeating right now. If you read this blog, you know. Writing-wise—there hasn’t been any, which is scary because I have a book to finish by February 24th (you know, Brian—my next Montana Bounty Hunters story)! But I’ll be on that tomorrow. I hope. If nothing else blows up.

We’re still sorting, clearing out stuff and rooms to make space for my dd’s furniture. My office move has been horrendous. The looks of disgust on my daughter’s face when she pulls out yet another stack of Post-Its from a tub…? Yeah, she’s not happy with me. “Mom, how many damn Post-Its does a human need?” I always raise my eyebrows and shoulders and give her my most charming smile. She’s past buying my Miss Innocent look. Oh, and I had no idea how many pens, boxes of staples, notepads, I had, but they’ll all get used…eventually…maybe by the next century.

I have an editing job to wrap up today; another by the 31st. Three new sets are coming in February—and they are for loooong books.

Again, writing-wise, I have Brian to write and publish and the next stepbrother sex-fest, With His SEAL Team, Part 6. With everything happening in the house, I will be challenged.

The one good thing is that I finally bit the bullet and bought a new computer! It’s overkill. I wanted it big and fast. I ended up buying a gamer’s dream of a computer. I sent my daughter with my bank card and told her to get what she knew I wanted. She brought me back this flashy computer with a keyboard that lights up and changes colors, speakers that change colors, a huge monitor. I’m giddy with delight. Will it be enough incentive for me to keep my butt in the chair to write? We’ll see. You’ll likely see me whining throughout February about how slow the story’s going because so much is happening in this house!

So, this week? Editing, writing, more office whittling-moving in stuff. It takes me some words to get to the point, right? Here’s hoping you have a less stressful week than me!

Contest

To win a $10 Amazon gift card, answer me this!

If your life was flashing before your eyes, what memory would you expect to stand out?

UPDATE: The winner is…Christi A!
*~*~*

Since my mom passed, my daughter has been on a mission to declutter the house to make room for her brood to move in. Up until today, she worked on the kitchen, mom’s bedroom—places that didn’t really impact me. However, today, she decided the focus would turn on me, because, guess what? Me and my big mouth offered up my office room so that every child would have their own bedroom. So, now, I have to consolidate my art room to hold all of my office, too.

It sounded easy when I first proposed it. However, step one was consolidating mom’s upstairs art room with mine—who knew she had so many supplies! And no, I can’t part with a single usable tube of paint or square of art paper. But that was accomplished. Mom’s art room is now my dd’s Cricut and sewing room.

Then she turned to my art room because I am giving up an entire art table, a storage armoire, and a coffee/fridge station to make space for my large desk. Before we could even begin there, we had to declutter the shelving to make room for mom’s and my supplies, together. It took all damn day, but at last the armoire was emptied, the shelves decluttered and refilled, the back table cleared. Only problem will be how to move around the cluttery table in the center of the space to place my desk against the back wall.

I’m so glad she’s the one in charge because I’d still be staring at it all, not knowing where to start… As it is, we’ve used a sh*t-ton of garbage bags already.

So, I used all those words to tell you why I chose my theme for today’s puzzle! Have fun solving it!

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, give me one good office/desk/files decluttering tip!

So, my dd and I are busy putting my mom’s house to rights, which means going through every closet, drawer, cupboard, etc. My mother was a bit of a hoarder, so it’s going to take time, especially when we come across family photos or documents that we need to save for my siblings. The house is going into probate, so we have time to weed out what we want to keep before my dd moves in. It’s hard work and tedious, but she’s up to the task. Thank goodness she has an organizational gene (I do not), because she’s really good at making swift decisions, while I tend to look at everything…slowly… Well, if I helped, she’d never get done, so she’s banished me from “helping”.

So, that’s what she’s up to. I’m back to work. I have a couple of editing projects at the moment and a short story to finish. However, I am looking at my workspace, and it needs some cleaning. I might work on neatening before I do the real work…

I wanted to express my  thanks to everyone out there for their condolences and well wishes. It’s a tough time, and it’s really nice knowing there are folks out there who care.

Some went above and beyond, and I’d like to thank them here, because I don’t have their mailing addresses (or even all their names!) to send them cards!

For the lovely flower arrangement, thank you to author-friends, Cynthia D’Alba, Becca Jameson, Kris Michaels, Cat Johnson, Parker Kincade, Maryann Jordan, Susan Stoker, and Teresa Reasor!

For the Cracker Barrel meals and the Honey Baked Ham with all the fixin’s you provided, thank you to the Brotherhood Protector authors! You really are a very special group of ladies!

The hardest part is past. Now, it’s back to work and planning for a changed but lovely future with my dd and her family to keep me company. 🙂

April 4, 1939 — January 10, 2020

She passed last Friday. The wonderful thing was that so many family members were already on their way to see her one last time or prepared to come at a moment’s notice from all over. We asked the funeral home if they could manage to bury her on Monday so that those who had traveled and had to return could stay for her funeral. They did it.

Likely it was easy because mom, unlike my dad, didn’t want a viewing or any sort of formal farewell in a church or at the funeral home. She preferred the idea of the family meeting at her gravesite and saying our goodbyes there. I don’t think it took twenty minutes—not that anything was rushed. We spent longer greeting each other and giving hugs.

All her children were there. Most of her grandchildren, too, as well as many of the great-grands. We placed roses on her casket.

And yes, there were tears, but there was also laughter. Because you can’t remember a character like my mom without smiles. She was flawed—sometimes petty and had a long memory for a grudge—but she was also generous, clever, and very loving. Everyone had their favorite funny memory—her hanging up a mean rooster on the side of the barn with a fishnet or using that same fishnet to kill a snake, the unique, sort of grating quality of her voice when she shouted for the kids to come to dinner or for dad to take his insulin shot. Mine was the way she occasionally cursed under her breath but managed a “sugar” or “fudge” when little ones were around.

After the ceremony, everyone headed back to the house for a meal, which was provided by my sister’s Brotherhood Protectors author group. By Monday night, some were on the road again. By Tuesday afternoon, only those who will continue to live here were left. With so many possessions gone, and without my mother’s presence, the house sounds hollow. But my pragmatic daughter is already at work, sorting through photos to be shared, clearing out decades of “stuff” my mother held onto that she really didn’t need. It keeps her busy. Helps her prepare for the move from the house across the street to this house. Soon, it will be a vibrant, noisy home again.

It’s taken me a little time to process. I spent the remainder of January 10th, after 1:30 PM, walking in a fog, making calls, meeting with hospice. The 11th, family descended. All my brothers, my sister, my son, nephew, nieces, daughter and her family. All inside one house. Most staying here overnight.

It was a strange day because my sis and I knew that while we had everyone here, we had to go through mom’s things to see what everyone wanted. Of course, her artwork flew of the walls. Everyone wanted a memory. I was left with a watercolor of a sunflower she’d done for me. We sorted through her clothing, bagging up what wasn’t wanted to give away. We parceled out her jewelry—so may mementos from my father’s deployments during the Vietnam War, later gifts, usually with diamonds when they had more money, because my mom loved bling. Treasures we’ll wear while we think of her.

The day she passed, my daughter was vacuuming the house after checking her to see if she was comfortable. Mom was beyond speech by that time, only half here. She no longer responded to our voices. I brought in a bright yellow washcloth to wash her face and began to do so, when I finally noticed she no longer breathed.

My sister, who had driven down from northern Arkansas walked into the house a minute later.

Two elderly men from the local funeral home came to collect her some time later. My son-in-law and I helped move her from the bed to the gurney. It seemed fitting that I should help lift her one last time. My SIL helped wheel her out to the hearse. One last gesture of respect.

Over the last couple of years, we’ve lost so much—my beautiful grandmother, my strong & kind father, my lovely mother. I stayed to care for them. My daughter followed me to care for me and them. I’m surrounded by loving family, and I know that was by my mother’s design. I can shed tears, not many, because that’s just not me, but once we lay her to rest, the work begins, because my daughter and her family will fill this quiet house, moving in to this sturdy home my father built.

In mama’s last days, she talked to my dad a lot. Long conversations that I only understood in snippets. He was waiting for her.

Let’s frame this, just so you see where I’m at in this “process”.

In 2018, after many months, off and on, of personal care by myself and my daughter, my grandmother passed away.

In 2019, after months of in-home care, my father passed away.

Now, my mother’s life is leaving her body. She’s at home where she wanted to be. We’re caring for her with the help of hospice staff that provides baths, checkups, and the supplies and meds we need.

I’m not a depressed person. I don’t cry. I do. But when there’s something I can’t fix, I get quiet. I look for outlets to provide me peace.

While she was in the hospital over the holidays, before they released her to come home to die, I cut and folded pieces of watercolor paper and banded them together with a rubber band. Then I sat down over several days and applied blotches of paint to the paper. When she came home, I began doodling in the times between I had to rise and give her food or water or meds. She was very demanding—not that I minded, because she and I knew what was coming. When she griped too much, I soothed or prodded her into laughter.

Now, she’s not eating. She’s barely drinking. I give her meds for her anxiety and the pain as her organs slowly give up.

And when it’s quiet, I sit and doodle.

I do this for her, because, guess what? She was a true artist. Her paintings and sketches are all over the house. I can barely draw, but putting color and scratches on a piece of paper is soothing for me. And I know she would have loved what I’m producing.

Here’s the cover…

And some of the pages. I’m not finished, yet. I hope there’s still some time…

I don’t mean for this post to be a downer. I’m generally a happy person. I laugh a lot. Still do. Even standing in my mother’s room with family, listening to her labored breathing, we find funny stories to tell about her. It’s at night, after I’ve checked on her, given her comfort, that I walk across the hall to her office and begin doodling, because I’m not ready for sleep.