It's Hard Being An Optimist

It’s hard being an optimist. Damned hard, because you always think everything is going to go swimmingly, even when you’re halfway sure it won’t.

I’m an optimist, a good one, too.

Things rarely get me down or depress me and when they do, it doesn’t last long. A day or two, maybe three, and then my blasted optimism bursts through again and I think ‘yeah – this is gonna be Great!’ Yeah, it’s gonna be Great with a capital ‘G’ and everything.

Take today, for instance.

A couple of months ago I entered a writing competition over on Authonomy. No prizes. No glory. Just the chance to strut your stuff and maybe get some accolades. Fun, right?

Well, here’s the entry I made:

* * * * *

The Locked Room

“Mom!”  Ellen Tyne raced into her parent’s kitchen.  Dad was still at work, but good news wouldn’t wait.  “I got it!  I got the job!”

Mary Tyne looked up from the pie she was filling.  Catching her daughter’s excitement, she smiled, her eyes twinkling, “Honey!  How wonderful!  I’m so proud of you.  When do you start?”

“In two weeks,” Ellen sobered.  “I’m going to have to go shopping.  I’ll need clothes and shoes.”

“You’ll be fine.”  Mom went back to her pie, “Dad and I will lend you some money, if you need it.”

Ellen made new friends at her job.  One, a woman in her mid-thirties, took Ellen her under her wing, like a big sister.  Eventually, Ellen invited Sami to her new house for dinner.

“Hi!”  Ellen said with a smile, “Come on in.”

Hours later, Chris Benson stood in the middle of Ellen’s living room, staring at the massive bloodstain on the floor.  In places, streaks marked the edges in long lines.  Thousands of blood and tissue splatters and droplets had sprayed over the carpet, furniture and walls.  Some reached the ceiling.

He had seen the body.  The girl’s mother wouldn’t recognize her.  Her face had been crushed, pulverized until the eyes fell from their sockets.  The nose was gone; the jaw shattered.  When the ME turned the head to examine the side, the entire lower face sagged.

Benson sighed.  It was easily in the top ten of gruesome scenes he’d attended in his eighteen years with the homicide squad.

“I don’t get it.”  Steve Klein, his partner, picked his way through the debris strewn through the room. “Locked door, locked windows, no way out, but…  How?”

They both stared at the steel framed door officers had broken open with a battering ram.  The antique thumb bolt and slide latches at the top and bottom of the door hung free, torn from steel and wood.

“I dunno, but we know she didn’t do it to herself.  We’ll have to find out.”  Benson surveyed the room again, “Anything from forensics on her purse or ID?”

“Nothing.  Just fingerprints, some hairs, fibers and,” he gestured at the dark stain, “Jane Doe.  I wonder what she did to deserve that.”

Benson grunted and headed to the door, “No one deserves that.”

Behind them, the forensics team continued their work.  Outside, Benson surveyed the rural neighborhood.  “Those folks are out of town, according to the patrolman.  Next house is a hundred yards that way.  They wouldn’t have heard anything.”

“Who called it in?”

“A neighbor who said they heard a fight, but I don’t think so, looking at the layout.  I think our perp called it in, and then stuck around to watch.”

“Where?”

“Probably used a cell phone and there’s a diner down at the junction.  It’d be a ringside seat.  Let’s check it out.”

No one at the diner remembered anything, but promised to call if they did.

Back at their office, Benson drew a floor plan from the measurements Klein had taken, and they began to talk.  How did such a grisly murder happen inside a locked house?

Hours later, her fingerprints gave them her name:  Ellen Tyne.

The next morning, Benson tossed an envelope on Klein’s desk.  “Here’s the ME’s report.  Eighty-six knife wounds, all but six, our bleeders, are superficial.  Burn marks on her breasts and thighs.  No rape, no gunshot, killed by a crushed skull.”

“Shit.”  Klein’s chair creaked.  “How long before we get toxicology?”

“Another week, ten days,” Benson looked at his hands.  “Fingerprints are recent.  She worked in the mayor’s office.  We’ll have to start there.  Maybe it was some nutcase with a grudge.”

They started looking into the backgrounds of everyone in the city offices. 

Their efforts turned up one lead interesting enough to make Benson lean back in his chair and stare at the water stain on the ceiling.  He recognized the name from one of the first cases he had ever worked.  After thinking about it, he picked up the phone, dialed and asked one question.  With the answer, he nodded and said, “Check it, would ya?”

“What are you thinking?”  Klein asked.

Benson told him.

“Yeah?”  Steve grimaced and muttered, “You’ve come a long way, baby.”  He stood up and paced to the window and back.  “What was the motive?”

“The girl said no, and meant it.  That’s my bet.”

An hour later, the phone rang.  “It was, huh?  You can back it up in front of a jury?”  He listened,

“Okay, we’ll get a warrant.  Thanks.”

When Samantha Anders got home from work that afternoon two men were sitting in a car in front of her house.  They made her nervous enough to drop her keys.  Before she straightened again, they were standing on either side of her.

“Ms. Anders?  I’m Detective Benson, this is Klein.  We have a search warrant.”

They found what they were looking for wrapped in plastic at the bottom of the garbage barrel in the garage.  The harness was there, along with the dildo.  It was unique enough in size and shape they were confident the ME could match it to the anal and rectal injuries Ellen had suffered.

Back at their office, Benson stood in front of the drawing.  “I even know how she got out.”  He tapped the paper.

“No way!  It was locked!”

“Bet you a steak dinner.”

“You’re on.  How, Sherlock?”

Benson explained and handed over the latest forensics report that included items taken from Ellen’s garage.

When he was done, Klein shook his head in admiration, “Just that simple … a putty knife, glazing putty, cleaning fluid and paper towels, all right there in Ellen’s garage.”

“Yep, and the fingerprints are Samantha’s.”

That night, Klein treated Benson to a steak dinner.

Eight months later, the jury convicted Samantha Anders of murder in the first degree, a rap she had beaten in another similar case, fifteen years earlier.

* * * * *

For that, I didn’t get one single vote. Not one. (Well, okay. My niece voted for it, but I suspect it was a pity vote. She denies it, of course, but hers was the lone vote for the poor orphan story and she's a sweet girl - always rooting for the underdog, even when it's buried. Seeing the run of the tide, she's the kind of person who will throw a lifeline to a drowning swimmer, even if there's no hope of rescue.)

As for me, I still don’t get it. Personally, I think that’s a pretty nifty little story in under 1,000 words. It doesn’t still hurt, burn and rankle as much as it did, but it does, a little.  Yet it is what it is. Folks thought the other story entered against mine was better.  Okay. That’s their opinion.

Determined not to open myself to disappointment / hurt / embarrassment again, I (internally) declared I would never, ever, ever do anything like that again! So what have I done? Doh! Agreed to participate in another competition just like the one I entered before.

"Why?" You ask intelligently?

"Beats the hell out of me!" I answer honestly. But I know the answer. It’s because I’m an optimist. And a bloody good one, too.

Have a lovely day!

Best~

Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Check out my writing at Authonomy: https://www.authonomy.com/user/6ec5f342-afe1-407e-bcf8-8636684c8ac4/ (yeah - cool name, that!)

All Sorts of Stuff

I have not got the first foggiest idea what to write about this morning.  My writer's drought seems to have far reaching consequences, so I'm going to just set it on Existential Stream of Consciousness, and see where it takes me.

How about them Giants (baseball)? It's about time! They have come alive again after starting off the season in very bad fashion. In the first half of April they lost eight straight. In May they've won five in a row. Pretty cool!

A lot of it has to do with injuries.

Hunter Pence (right fielder) was hit by a pitch in Spring Training. It broke his arm, badly, and he's been on the Injured Reserve, since. He's back to taking batting practice and then they'll send him out to one of the minor clubs to play a number of games and rebuild his timing and swing. It'll be a couple of more weeks, at least, but it'll be good to see him back out there.

Jake Peavey, one of their starting pitchers, has been out with back spasms. He's coming along and should be available again soon.

Matt Cain who threw a 'perfect game' in 2013 had Tommy John surgery and surgery to remove bone spurs in his throwing arm toward the end of last season. He seemed to be doing well, throwing in Spring Training (even though he was complaining of discomfort). He started one game this season and... out. With a strained forearm.  After R&R he's finally starting to throw again, but it has been a long road to recovery. I just hope that they keep a closer eye on him, and that he stops if it starts to hurt. No sense ending your entire career chasing after one or two more starts.

Travis Ishikawa (first base), who hit the last home run that got them into the World Series last year, has had back problems, but he's in rehab and should be available again, soon.

Then, Angel Pagan who missed the end of last season because of back spasms that ended with surgery, had his hand stepped on by a leaping player night before last. He was sliding into second base when the guy leapt for a ball and came down, right on Pagan's finger. In a post-game interview, he said the nail is split. OUCH! My finger hurts, just thinking of that.

Casey McGehee (third base) is the Charlie Brown of baseball. He has been playing so badly, I actually feel sorry for him.

He was an off-season acquisition from the Miami Marlins to replace Pablo Sandoval who signed with the Boston Red Sox.  Unfortunately, his greatest ability seems to be hitting into double-plays. He has got the worst luck when it comes to doing that, and it's almost always inning ending because there seems to almost always be one out on the board already.

For weeks he flubbed more plays than he made - missing balls, dropping balls, missing throws. At home plate, with his remarkable ability to consistently hit into double plays, it was really ugly. So ugly I feel sorry for the poor guy. Recently though, in the past few games, he's started to look better. He's fielded more plays than he's flubbed, and he's managed to get some base hits.

At this point, with the injuries resolving and players getting ready to come back, I'm starting to pity Bruce Bochy (team manager)! He is going to have some major headaches once these guys are all fit and ready to go.

Justin Maxwell has been playing great right field all season so far. He has made some spectacular plays, and his been a clutch hitter, but when Hunter Pence is ready to go, what's Bochy going to do with him? Bench him? Send him back to the minors? Trade him? That's going to be a tough call, although it won't have to be made immediately. Pence is going to need time to get all the way back (even though the guy is a gym fanatic so is probably still in fantastic condition except for his arm).

Heston and Hudson, two starting pitchers that have stepped up in the absence of Cain and Peavey will likely be benched. I don't know if there is room on the roster to keep these guys in reserve, or if they'll be sent 'down'. Both of them have been pitching extremely well, going deep into their games and keeping their earned run averages low.

As for Charlie Brown, if McGehee doesn't get his act together, I could definitely see Bochy keeping Matt Duffy available to play third base.

He came up into the minors as a short stop - arguably the toughest position to play since you're all over the place. They've been using him as a utility infielder - putting him at third, at short, at first. He's been doing pretty well there at third, and he's been hitting well, so that might bode well for his future.

Still, the roster is going to be over-full and Bochy is going to have to make some tough decisions. I just hope they're the right decisions and the team can keep putting wins up on the board.

Turning to hockey, it is making things very hard this spring.

I want to watch baseball - the A's are doing about as well as the Giants - right around .500 so far this season. The difference is that the Giants appear to be on a meteoric climb from the cellar (last place in the National League West) into second place (behind the LA Dodgers). With their season turned around, hockey is back to second place but the Stanley Cup playoffs are really fun to watch, too.

Since I don't have control of the remote (my husband insists it is his Right), I'm just a passenger on a wild ride. Giants baseball... click... A's baseball... click... Chicago Blackhawks... click... Calgary Flame... click... baseball...hockey...hockey...baseball. It's almost a relief when the various games end so we can settle in one place!

Last night, the Chicago Blackhawks beat the Minnesota Wild 1-0, so they're up 3-0 in their seven game series. One more, and they're into the final round. The Wild played well and hard, but Chicago just seems to be unstoppable. The best man on their team, though, is their announcer. Mike Emerick. This guy could make grass growing seem exciting - he is great to listen to during the game, never seeming to miss a call and with a genuine love for hockey that exudes from the speakers.

Anaheim and Calgary are 2-1, respectively. Calgary came back last night and won their game - which was impressive because Anaheim is such a strong team. The Anaheim goalie wasn't happy about one of the calls made by the officials - I didn't see the play about, apparently, an Anaheim goal was denied because the officials couldn't determine if the puck had crossed the goal line completely. Since there was doubt, they waved it off. In the end, if it had been scored, Anaheim would have won the game 4-3 in regulation, instead of losing 3-4 in overtime.

Thank God we're not basketball fans, too!  The Golden State Warriors are doing well in their playoff series. They lost their first game in the playoffs last night, in round two, against the Memphis Grizzlies. So that series is tied 1-1. I hope they win the next two and advance into the finals, but I really won't be paying attention.

Go Giants!

Have a lovely day (and I promise - no more esoteric American sports! Unless I have another drought and have nothing better to write about).

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter:  https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Hey - it's Cinco de Mayo! Let's have a party!

Even though this is the alleged Mexican Independence Day celebration according to most of the people I know, it really isn't. That's September 16th, which doesn't have quite the same festive ring to it. Besides, Cinco de Mayo is much easier for English speakers to say than dieciseis de Septiembre. It flows off the tongue. Even when you're half in the bag. Diesciseis de Septiembre is a mouthful even when you're stone cold sober. 

Instead of full-on Independence, this is the date on which the Mexican army defeated - in surprising fashion - the French at the Battle of Puebla. Because of... ta da! Money.

See, there was a bit of a fiscal crisis then, too. There usually is. Then. Now. It doesn't matter, really. Money is always a problem. After all, isn't that what most couples fight over? So why not governments, too?

It was 1861 and the Mexican government was just about bankrupt after busily fighting two huge wars.

The first was the Mexican-American War (1846-1848) which was how the U.S. ended up with California, New Mexico and made sure that Texas wasn't going anywhere.

The second was the Reform War (1858-1861). I think I'm going to call that the 'Bible Thumper War'. It sounds more fun than *yawn* the Reform War.

Conservatives liked the idea of a form of theocracy in which the government and Catholic church would rule side-by-side. Most folks weren't too keen on the idea, so they had a war. The Thumpers lost.

Anyway, by the end of those two wars the Mexican government was hugely in debt to England, France and Spain. It had borrowed money, a lot of it.

After the dust settled, when they attempted to balance their checkbook, they discovered they were broke.  "Meh, they can wait" (or words to that effect). President Juarez told his creditors that Mexico wouldn't service its debt for a couple of years - just a moratorium.

Naturally, their creditors weren't pleased. Kind of like Ebenezer Scrooge on the steps of the Exchange when accosted by Samuel Wilkins - 'I didn't ask you for more time to lend you the money. Why should you ask me for more time to repay it?'

Of course, that didn't set well with Mexico's creditors. They sent ships and men and, in a manner of speaking, banged on the door while demanding payment.  Mexico managed to sweet talk England and Spain into waiting. They went back home, but Napoleon decided to take a pound or two of flesh, seeing an opportunity to establish a French colony in the Americas.

For Napoleon and his army, considered the 'premier army' in the world at the time, their attempt ended with an embarrassing defeat.

On cinco de Mayo, in the Battle of Puebla, six thousand elite French soldiers were resoundingly beaten by an ill-equipped Mexican army of two thousand.

Boney was not best pleased. The next year, he sent thirty-thousand troops. Better odds. They managed to take over Mexico and install a puppet government, answerable to France although the Mexican resistance continued for several years.

In the end, with the American Civil War over and the geo-political landscape shifting again, France decided it really didn't want a continuing guerrilla war in Mexico. The U.S. wasn't real happy with the French invasion of Mexico, and started providing support to the Mexican guerrillas.

Seeing the writing on the wall, the French decided leaving was probably a better idea than staying, so they withdrew, leaving their governor, Maximilian I, behind. He was captured and, along with several of his generals, was executed.

President Juarez returned to Mexico City in 1867, re-established his government and (almost) everyone lived (mostly) happily ever after.

So now, let's have a party!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Find me at Authonomy: https://www.authonomy.com/user/6ec5f342-afe1-407e-bcf8-8636684c8ac4/
(yeah - cool name, that!)

Writer's Drought - pfft... I hate pfft.

I hate when this happens.  I'll be going great guns with something and then... It all dries up.

Suddenly, I don't want to write because I don't like what I'm writing. Like yesterday afternoon and evening. With what I have written in 'Laurentina's Lessons', I reached a point where I didn't know where to go next to get to where I want to be. I didn't like what I had written - it was flat and boring. Like the Dolrums with no wind, but no heat, either.

I knew it would pass. It does and it just means that I have to be patient and not get wrapped up in worry, but it's hard, worrisome because, as with everything written by anyone, I've invested a lot in this and, suddenly... pfft. Nothing.

Perhaps it's what others call 'writer's block'. I don't know. I have ideas, there was just nothing that was exciting or enticing, nothing that led me on. Not only did I not want to work on what I've recently done, I also didn't want to work on anything else.

'Matters of Friendship' was going well, major edit but not a major re-write, but... pfft.

In book two of my Thoroughgoing Bastard series, 'Laurentina's Lessons', all is well and good for the first 150 pages or so, but then it gets weak and was getting weaker. There was no spark - no 'yeah, this is good stuff!'  Just pfft.

I hate pfft. It's depressing.

Mulling it over last night I had no answers. This morning, though - overnight perhaps, I had an epiphany.  I know exactly where the turning point is. It's about 100 pages ago, which means that 100 pages is pretty much going to go pfft.  I hate pfft but in this case it's for the wasted effort.

But, most honestly, it is all about me at this point. If I don't like it, if I don't believe that 'yeah, this is really good stuff!' I'm not about to release it into the wild, so I had better like it. A lot. And I don't. Not right now. But I will.

And that doesn't necessarily mean I can't use some of what I have. There's a great 'fight' scene that came out well:

* * * * *

For several long minutes Lacy sat there. She had not really thought her ploy would work and now that it had, how was she going to tell Willis? And what if the rest of it worked? What if she was able to convince Jacobsen? Then she would be obligated to Marcel.

Never go back on your word, Lacielle. Laurentina’s soft voice came out of nowhere, no one trusts a liar. No one trusts anyone who reneges on a pledge. It is a matter of honor and, as with everything else, a woman is judged far more harshly than a man in such matters. Once she is found to have lied, everything she says is questioned.

Lacy leaned forward, her head in her hands, feeling as if she was going to throw up. I don’t know whether to hope I can solve this or not.

It was worse than Lacy expected. She waited until they were relaxing in the Jacuzzi after dinner before she told Willis most of her conversation with Marcel.

“I don’t want him here!” Willis roared as he threw himself out of the tub.

Lacy followed, storming after him through the house, leaving a trail of water that matched his, “It is only so we can get what we need! I cannot convince Jack that I am who I am without an official document. A copy won’t do it because it is too easily made. Marcel has that document. We don’t know that Stan’s friend is going to be able to get one for us and the longer we wait the more firm Jack’s opinion will become. If we wait until Friday or next week, it may be immovable!”

“I … don’t … care!” Willis was white faced with fury when he whirled to face her, and Lacy didn’t understand.

What was wrong with him? He had suggested that she have group sex with his friends, and it hadn’t bothered him. Now, she was willing to give herself to one man, to prostitute herself in exchange for something that would help him, and he was like this?

“I don’t understand you!” She raged.

“There is nothing to understand!”

She took a deep breath. Yelling at him is not going to change his mind. He is too angry for reason or seduction. “I am not willing to do this because I want to. I am doing it for you, because my father did this to you, as he did it to Henri.”

Willis turned away, the tension across his shoulders almost painful to see.

She stepped closer, “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“No,” his voice was muffled, “not this way, Lacy. Not like this.”

“Why not?”

His expression, when he turned to face her, was tormented, the pain in his eyes palpable, his voice ragged, “Because you’re not a whore.”

It’s his past. She knew it with a sharp jolt. It has to do with his mother and, perhaps, his father.

“No, I am not a whore.” She spoke softly, gently and stepped closer to him, putting every bit of sincerity into her words and voice that she could. “I am a woman in love with a man for whom I will die if it will save him. Even if it means sleeping with another man to get the device that will save the man I love, I will do that.”

* * * * *

Now that, in my opinion, is good stuff, so I won't waste it. I even know how I'll redirect that, strengthen it (because, out of context as it is, it's not that exciting, but it should be). Probably two days of hard work and then it'll be back on a different track, heading toward the same destination.

'Lothario' on the other hand... I am pleased as can be with that. I love it, and I've had two beta readers - people who didn't even know I existed before a couple of months ago - rave about it. I've gotten really solid remarks from people on Authonomy, too, so I'm confident it's a good, strong story. I just have to make sure its younger sibling(s) rise to the same level. Which is part of the struggle.

So - check out 'Lothario & The New Girl' here: https://www.authonomy.com/book/295117/Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Have a lovely week!  With NO pfft!!

Best~
Philippa

A Busy Sunday Morning

I love days like this, with too much going on to handle comfortably.  Awake at 5:30. Up at 6:30. Sam is taken care of, bed made, 7:15 chicken's in the oven and water is heating to boil up the chow mein noodles for my stir fry.

There is still all the prep work for the veggies - bell peppers, mushrooms, bok choy (which I'm debating how to prepare - roast, with the brussels sprouts, or julienne and stir fry with the mushrooms and peppers...), garlic, carrots.  I'll have a busy morning and then... Grab and go lunches for the week.

Once I get the kitchen put back together, I'll go back to work on Laurentina (the sequel to Lothario and the New Girl).  I finally settled - for the moment anyway - on a cover for Lothario. I wasn't really happy with the one I had - too young, too 'girly'.  So, I came up with:

Believe it or not - that was all done in PowerPoint!  Amazing what you can do with that program, with some effort (and zero money!). Pretty and suggestive and... Hopefully attractive enough to grab an audience!  I have the back cover, too, but I still need to work on the pitches for that.

Yesterday I spent several hours with 'Laurentina' - and I know where it's going. Now I'm just trying to get there.  Trying to keep it 'real' at this point is hard, because the action isn't really purely logical, but I think I can pull it off.

Once I get finished with my "Domestic Goddess" duties this morning - dishes washed / put away, dishwasher emptied, etc., I'll get back to work on the confrontation between Lacy and Jack.

Have a lovely day!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter:  https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Check out 'Lothario & The New Girl' at:  https://www.authonomy.com/book/295117/

Insanity Left Behind...

I'm tired of the stuff and nonsense of the past week.

Idiocy in Baltimore culminating with criminal charges levied against six police officers with no apparent investigation completed. Lunacy in Colorado with the school saying 'oops'.

I'm done. The world didn't blow up or implode, beyond the havoc wreaked in Baltimore neighborhoods about which I can do nothing, so I'm going to go back to normal. I'll pay attention to what interests me and not get too jacked up about other stuff.  Yeah - I'm a selfish cow.

This weekend should be really nice in many respects. The weather is going to be warm and wonderful. Maybe we'll do a barbecue (steaks? chicken?). Easily warm enough for me to dry my laundry outside. To me, that's almost a Zen experience. I don't know why, but it's relaxing and satisfying. Once things are dry, it's simpler than picking through a laundry basket to find like things for folding.

I have a few errands - have to pick up 'scrips for my mother-in-law (refill the household pharmacy), and some food for Sam, my increasingly finicky 18-year old cat:

He's my baby who insists that my sole purpose for existence is to provide him a cat pillow.  I cannot sit down without him appearing and shoving anything I might have in his way, out of the way.  I love him to pieces, of course.

Other than the meds, the cat food, the laundry and cleaning my house, things should be nice and quiet.

On my drive to work yesterday, I was pondering my almost impossible to ignore craving for chow mein and have decided to have a go at fixing it tomorrow. I've never cooked a Chinese meal, let alone chow mein, but what have I got to lose? Unless I don't cook the chicken properly, it won't kill me (even if it doesn't taste quite like I hope it will).

I've decided that I'll start by pan frying sliced skinless chicken thighs in some sesame oil until they're cooked through and nicely browned. Then I'll deglaze the pan with some balsamic vinegar and cook up sliced onion (to sweeten it). From there, I'll cook up batches of mushrooms, slivered bell pepper and baby bok choy while I roast some Brussels sprouts with garlic and balsamic vinegar. Once the veggies are all cooked, I'll fry up some chow mein noodles (which will have cooked and drained while I do everything else). Then, when it's all done, I'll mix it together in a big glass bowl and voila - lunches for a week.  If I want the soy flavor, I'll add it after I'm done cooking since it's so salty and I don't want to taste that much salt.

On a separate note, because the weather has been so perfect these past few days, I've been trying to catch pictures of some of the little points of interest on my commute.  There are a few places I want to capture, one of which is Porter Creek:

I drive over it every morning and for almost a year I've enjoyed seeing the daily changes in light and shadow and color. The other morning I finally made a point of stopping to capture it - and really like the result!

There are a few other places, too.  Silly places and pretty places, and all are fodder (or will be) for my camera as I have the right time of day and enough time to stop and compose. Perhaps I'll get out Sunday morning, before my adventure into stir fry, and get some pics.  The road is narrow and very busy during the week but, perhaps, on an early Sunday it will be quieter.

As for the fun parts of my weekend, I have lots to do.

I'm way-y-y-y-y overdue on providing a read and crit on several books at Authonomy.

I'm also in the throes of creating my sequel to 'Lothario & The New Girl'.

For Lothario, I've got the front and back covers done and I've started the upload process on Create Space so, in a few months - I'll set 'er free! I just want to make sure book two is well along so that in a few months after Lothario's release, I'll be ready for Laurentina's Lessons.

Busy times, really busy and a whole lot of fun!

Have a gorgeous weekend!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter:  https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Can Someone Make Sense of This For Me, Please?

Earlier this week, hordes of kids - teenagers and young adults - rioted through Baltimore. They looted, destroyed private property, set fires and burned homes and businesses while most people simply looked on. They sat on the sidelines, wringing their hands but not condemning.

At one point, the mayor spoke her mind and called them thugs.  Many black leaders condemned her for that statement, but not the actions that led to it. So, she retracted her words, saying she 'over-reacted'.

Huh?

This is the mayor. She is responsible for the police, who were under attack, and she sides with the hoods who put fifteen officers in the hospital? She doesn't condemn the actors who injured her employees? Really? There's a confidence builder for the men and women sworn to protect and serve.

Personally, I think the woman is an incompetent twit. More than a few reports say that she told the police to 'stand down', that the mob should be allowed to riot, to be given space. Ignoring the fact that many of the tax paying citizens she was elected to serve were having their livelihoods destroyed. She does not call in the National Guard.

Yet she gets one thing right by calling them what they are: thugs and then is such a wildly weak sister that she retracts it when a bunch of men take exception to it.

 Now that's leadership for you...


On the other hand, also this week, we have a mom in Colorado who packs Oreo cookies in her four-year old daughter's lunch.

Oh. My. God! Crime against humanity!

The school confiscated the cookies the child's mother packed, and sent a condemnatory note home.

So here's my problem.

Not a word, not one single breath condemning the kids who burned down part of a city. Not a syllable against their parents. We're not allowed to call them thugs, because, even though it is synonymous with 'hoodlum' and 'ruffian', the black leadership likens it to the n-word.

In Colorado, a little girl doing nothing worse than eating chocolate cookies with her lunch is punished. She is humiliated in front of her peers by having a teacher take part of her lunch away. It probably was not done subtly or quietly. Four year old kids, in my experience, are not known for being quiet and meek, so I imagine there was an outburst that drew the attention of the little girl's classmates. There were probably tears and the teacher scolding. The child's mother is shamed with a derisive note all but accusing her of being a 'bad' mother.

Now, can someone explain this divide logically, because I sure as hell don't get it.

Is it because the black kids have more rights than the white kid? After all, Authority did not step into the mess in Baltimore and try to stop it. They let it go - for a couple of days, watched while business owners had their shops broken into and robbed - and they did nothing to stop it.

Is it because society fears the black mob more than we fear the single white child? After all, those black kids are bigger than a single four year old little girl.

Here's the divide for me: It is not okay for the Nanny State to intervene in or condemn the destructive bad behavior of a mob, but it is acceptable for them to tell a parent what they can and cannot feed their child?

Really?  Why?

Think about it and let me know because as I said before, I just do not see any logic in the handling of these two situations.

Have a lovely day!  (It's Friday!! Wa-Hoo!)

Best~
Philippa

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