One Can Always Hope!
Well, it’s been a while. Gotta shift gears a little. A new book and a bit of an injury kept me from my blog duties.Perhaps this will explain:
2017: Where Did It Go?
The year just past was a blur. I do remember I that I now have in hand a new book (see next paragraph).I used to try to keep a journal to help me remember the years, but it seems I spent too many years throwing pots on a potter’s wheel and writing by hand, that my best option now is to use my voice to write, or not to write at all (not really an option for me).
I spent much of the year finishing my latest memoir, about my early years (BC: Before Carl). The title: Sir, I’m Not That Kind of Girl! Or Goody Two-Shoes Goes to Town. Copies will be available from me by advance order, and you may pay through PayPal. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m all set up. (The first ten people who write a review of the book will get a free ebook copy of Accidental Cowgirl: Six Cows, No Horse and No Clue, a hilarious account of the twelve years Carl and I spent trying to raise cattle in remote Trinity County.
My new book is a romp through my Ozzie and Harriet childhood and adolescence, culminating in the glamour years before my first marriage, when I had the opportunity to hold a number of diverse jobs in San Francisco, such as switchboard operator for Greyhound Bus Lines, fashion model, sales clerk at Gump’s in and also Capwell’s department store (now gone) and dancer in a San Francisco-based chorus line.
Funny, how as you get older, you remember the distant past better than the more recent one. Except for dramatic recent ones: My most recent dramatic memory is of falling onto the dining room floor and breaking my hip on the day before Thanksgiving. (I have osteoporosis, so it’s not hard to do. I’m considering designing a bubble wrap pantsuit for myself).
Anyway, thank God Carl’s daughter Amyre was here from Yucaipa. She made Thanksgiving dinner, and I managed to spend the next seven days gimping around until I reached the point where I couldn’t move (thought if anything was broken I’d know—turns out I was wrong), and I got a nice ambulance ride to the emergency room, and partial hip replacement surgery that night—the 30th.
By the end of December, I was still recuperating, and my son Miles flew down from Portland and helped Carl nurse me (and my daughter, Jamie, who had foot surgery on November 21st). Miles’ wife, Holly, drove down with their new, large Doberman puppy, arriving on December 23rd, just in time to cook Christmas dinner. (It was nice not to have to cook either Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, but I don’t recommend my method of achieving that.)
My new book has kept me busy, supervising cover and interior design and printing. BookBaby was very patient with my pickiness (is there such a word?) Let me know what you think of the cover:
I’ve graduated to a walker, then a cane, and now I’m on my own, and I’m back to daily exercises again, after a three-month recovery and one month of sheer sloth. Still, we’re all glad to be here, and we still have our sweet doggie, Fizzbo, though she is looking a little long in the tooth, as are we all.
Hope all is well with you and yours. Back to memoir-writing advice next week. Promise!
Happy New Year! 2018 has gotta be better, right?