Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

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  • Revising My Easter Post


    Dearest Readers:

    This will be another brief post since my eye is still beet red and just a bit swollen. I suppose it is time for me to make an appointment with my eye doctor, just to confirm that the redness is from the pollen. I will be so happy when this pollen ends. It is so thick this year, I can watch it blowing in the wind.

    Yesterday, I wrote a brief post about Easter, describing what Easter means to me. The blessed memories of my grandmother, the celebrations we shared in church. However, I left out one important reason for the season of Easter, and that is the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

    According to the website, http://christianity.about.com/od/holidaytips/qt/whatiseaster.htm
    “Christians believe, according to Scripture, that Jesus came back to life, or was raised from the dead, three days after his death on the cross. As part of the Easter season, the death of Jesus Christ by crucifixion is commemorated on Good Friday, always the Friday just before Easter. Through his death, burial, and resurrection, Jesus paid the penalty for sin, thus purchasing for all who believe in him, eternal life in Christ Jesus.”

    For those who read my post, I apologize for leaving this important information out. I suppose I was focusing on the memories of my grandmother and simply forgot to discuss the resurrection. Added to that, my silly eye problems.

    I hope your Easter was a time to reflect and to remember why we celebrate Easter.

  • Happy Easter to The World!


    Dearest Readers:

    This will be an extremely brief post on my blog due to issues — all due to the pollen — with my right eye. If I go outside without sunglasses, my right eye is kissed with pollen — turning beet red. So, since this will be brief, please allow me to get to the point of this blog.

    Today, all around the world, is Easter. A day to celebrate, appreciate, and recognize this holiday is significant since it is all related to the passing of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Today, we celebrate in remembrance of the significance of Jesus Christ.

    To all of my family and friends, I wish you a joyous celebration. We will celebrate with an Easter dinner with a few of our friends. I hope all of you are remembering and enjoying this Easter Sunday. Today in Charleston, the weather is a bit ‘iffy’ with gray clouds, much wind, and I am quite certain the pollen is ‘blowing in the wind.’

    I am a bit pleased that we have plans with friends since my eye is so red — AGAIN! I suppose I will have to make an eye doctor’s appointment — only to be told — ‘your right eye is allergic to the pollen!’ What do you want to bet that will be the diagnosis?!???

    On this day, Easter Sunday, I like to reflect on some of the good memories I have about Easter and my childhood. Normally, our Easter Sunday was spent with my maternal grandparents. The four girls in our family received Easter baskets from the Easter bunny, until we started questioning the “Easter bunny.” Nevertheless, every Easter Sunday, we received new Easter dresses from our grandparents. How I LOVED dressing up at Easter time. Dressing up in my ‘Sunday Best’ — as good ole Southern women would whisper — wearing nylons, or tights, a beautiful, brightly colored Easter dress, and new heels. I say heels because they were the only Easter shoes I EVER desired. Those of you who know me and the high heels I wear must understand — don’t you? I LOVE nylons and high heels!

    On those special Easter Sundays of my youth, I recall the church we went to would have an Easter picnic at the fellowship hall. All of us ‘little ladies’ would prance around — or would it be — priss around — to show our Easter dresses off to all of the boys. I remember spinning around, and walking as if I had a book on my head! Such a prissy little brat! The dinner contained every delicious dish you could ever imagine eating, including the Easter cakes, Southern desserts, and one little woman would bring a “Jesus birthday cake.”

    Such delicious memories I have, and I confess, as an adult, I have never enjoyed Easter nearly as much since losing my grandmother. I have no idea how my sisters feel about Easter, but my memories of Grandma and Papa and our Easters at their house were the best. I remember sitting next to Grandma. She would open her Holy Bible to the scriptures, underlining these precious words with a red ink pen. No highlighters! I remember singing along with the choir, and occasionally glancing at some of the boys. When Grandma patted me on the leg, I knew — I must behave and pay attention to ‘the word of our Lord.’ How I wish I had Grandma’s Holy Bible in my collection of books. I have no idea what happened to it, but I do recall she wrote the complete and final request of how her funeral was to be in the back pages of that Bible. Her one song request, “Asleep in Jesus.” I found it at a music store and someone sang it at her funeral. How I hope and pray someone in our family still has Grandma’s Holy Bible. If I did, I would open it today to read and reminisce about those Easter Sundays with Grandma. I would look at and touch the words highlighted in red ink, knowing that many, many years ago, my Grandmother touched those same words! Maybe one day soon I’ll write a story about Grandma’s Holy Bible.

    Not a bad idea!

    Happy Easter, World. Let us all appreciate what this season represents.

  • My Thoughts About Freewriting


    Dearest Readers:
    Many of you are actively reading my blog and for that I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Some of you have asked if I allow others to write on my blog. The answer to that question is “No.” As a writer with a web presence, I do not allow others to post, simply because I do have a reputation to maintain, and I spend a bit of time working on my blog, when time permits. However, I do, occasionally, post press releases from others and they receive the credit for these releases. As a writer, I love promotion and marketing and work hard to share with my reading public.

    Today, I shall freewrite. It has been about two weeks since I’ve posted anything on my blog and that is the reason for this discussion today. I have a busy week ahead of me and will share information about that at a later date. Tomorrow, I have Weight Watchers. Most of you know I am an active member of Weight Watchers and I am still struggling to break that bloody plateau I have fought so hard with. Weight Watchers has a new benefit now to their program. We get a card, referred to as the “No Weigh In” card. We can use it on weeks when weight loss is depressing us, or we feel we just do not want to be weighed. I call it my ‘get out of jail free’ card – a Monopoly game card. I have used my get out of jail free card three times, so far this year. Weight is lingering on me, although inches are FALLING OFF and for that – this chick is thrilled! All of my shorts will be going to Goodwill as soon as I complete the dreaded spring cleaning.

    In the event you are curious IF Weight Watchers measures you – the answer is NO! All we do is get weighed every week, and that is confidential. No one can glance down to read what the scale reveals. Only the Weight Watchers leaders know and they record the loss or gain privately.

    BUT!!! Why are you writing about Weight Watchers? Perhaps you are wondering why – well, it is simple – freewriting is a dreaded chore that writers do to write, or get the mojo working again. Today, with so many things to do, freewriting might get me motivated again. Let us hope so!

    Many of you reading my blog have asked private messages of how long I have written and how do I think of so many topics??? Simple. I am alive. When something ruffles my feathers, when inspiration moves me, or when I feel I need to jump on my soapbox, I write. Normally, I allow the documents written to ‘get cold’ meaning – they have sat for a bit of time, then I re-read them, and I post. I confess, this doesn’t always happen, but I am trying to get in the habit. Silly me! Effective today, I am writing blog subjects in a Microsoft Word document – not straight into my blog. After all, I want to have a record of what I am writing – not simply rushing to my blog to find the documents.

    Freewriting is an action we writers will do for about five to ten minutes. Seems I forgot to time my freewriting after a phone call interruption. The first call was another bloody telemarketer, and if you are a telemarketer and want to call me to inquire about a survey which will take 10 to 15 minutes – guess what – your survey is much too long to get my opinion – and I’m certain I DO have an opinion. After all, those who know me recognize and describe me as an opinionated woman! Funny, last year at my high school reunion I was described as ‘shy’ — ‘timid’ — ‘someone who we don’t remember…’ Thank goodness that innocent little girl grew up to become someone who DOES have an opinion and someone who ‘makes an entrance…’ Gees…I have to laugh at that description, but it is nice to hear others say now – “Oh…I remember YOU!”

    Good or bad? Who knows. By now, you are probably wondering – just where is Barbie Perkins-Cooper going with this posting? Well…it’s called freewriting for a reason.

    The second, third, and FOURTH phone calls were from my husband. He has the tendency to phone me LOTS…and IF he doesn’t get me on the landline, he will phone my cell. If I don’t answer, he calls the landline again…Some men are such pains when they want to speak to you…and what they have to say, could definitely wait a bit…but that is HOW my husband is on a day when I have thousands of things to do – such as today!

    Maybe on that note, it is time for me to start the Zumba DVD and dance. I need to release a bit of frustration and music is so therapeutic! Yep, I think should play the music and dance. I absolutely detest freewriting! Have a great week, readers.

  • THE WAKE UP CALL


    First North American Rights Only
    Total Word Count –1491 words
    Barbie Perkins-Cooper
    E-mail: barbiepc@bellsouth.net

    Arriving in Greensboro, North Carolina, I met Joan at Friendly Shopping Center. I parked the car in the first available spot and headed towards Hecht’s Department Store. Rushing across the parking lot, I waved to Joan. Stopping for only a moment, I admired the Christmas decorations. Early morning bargain hunters were anxious for the doors to open, pushing, and shoving to get to the entrance. Joan and I stepped aside letting an elderly woman in a wheel chair take our spot. Holiday sales meant nothing to me. I’d experienced the worst year in my life, watching my father melting away from the toxic poisons of esophageal cancer and chemo-radiation therapy.

    “Crowds bother me,” I said to Joan. “Will I ever laugh again?”

    Joan nodded. I turned my back to the street, noticing the trees decorated with bright lights. I’d almost forgotten Christmas was less than a month away.

    “How are you doing?” Joan asked.

    “Okay. The trees are beautiful this year.”

    “Just okay, huh,” Joan said. “It’s been six months. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

    Grief is an emotional I do not tolerate well. Normally a boisterous woman, full of laughter and fun, especially at the holidays, my present demeanor was a weakened shell of a woman, bursting into tears at the slightest gesture, especially when someone struggled to move in a wheel chair, or a walker. Too many memories surfaced and I crumbled like a child. I missed my dad more than words could express. My actions revealed how despondent I was, and I truly hated myself for being such a weakling.

    When the doors opened, I looked over my shoulder. Something caught my eye. An object was lying in the road. Someone probably dropped a jacket I thought as I moved closer.

    “Joan,” I said. “I’ll meet you in ladies wear.”

    I didn’t hear Joan answer me. By now, there were hundreds of shoppers pushing and shoving into Hecht’s.
    Striding towards the road, I recognized the item by the curb wasn’t a jacket, but an elderly gentleman.
    “He must be drunk,” I mumbled, moving closer to him. What if he’s dead? I dialed 9-1-1 on my cell phone.

    My mind rewound, stopping at the memories and heartache of July, 1999. That humid Tuesday evening in South Carolina, I was late arriving at Sandpiper Convalescent Center. When I placed my hand on the door of my father’s room, a nurse intercepted me. Nurses were rushing around Dad’s bed.

    “Can you get a pulse?” I heard someone say.

    “His daughter is here. What should we do?”

    Nurse Angie joined me at the doorway. Her eyes locked into mine.

    “No, “I screamed. “No! Please God, No!”

    Nurse Angie sat me down. She didn’t need to tell me what was going on. I knew the day had arrived, and although Dr. Williams told me I needed to prepare myself, I wasn’t ready to let Dad go. I still needed him in my life. For two years he’d fought and survived. For two years, we’d buried the past, building a newfound respect, love and forgiveness. He couldn’t leave me now.

    Nurse Angie whispered. “He’s a DNR. Do you want us to do anything?”

    The acronym for do not resuscitate rang in my ears. “I can’t override his decision. Not even if it means—.” I couldn’t finish the words. Since childhood, Dad was my helping hand. Always ready to cheer me up. He and my grandmother taught me about God and prayer. Dad was the provider who encouraged me to stand up for myself and to speak my mind. Dad was the one who glowed with pride when I sang in the choir. Dad was the one who encouraged me to reach for the stars.

    “Dear God, give me strength,” I prayed. “Take care of my dad. Let him know I love him.”

    A screaming horn brought me back to reality. I stared into the eyes of a driver. “Get the hell out-of-the-way,” the burgundy haired woman shrieked. “I need to turn.”

    I walked over to her. She had body piercings in her eyebrow and nose. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you,” I said. “There’s a gentleman unconscious in the road. I’m not moving him until EMS gets here.”

    “Yeah, whatever,” she mouthed. “I’m in a hurry.”

    “Aren’t we all?”

    I kneeled down, touching the elderly gentleman’s forehead, feeling beads of cold sweat. His hair was thin, salt and pepper gray. His face was weathered, hands wrinkled from years of the roadblocks and detours of life. “Dear God please. Don’t let him die. Not today.”

    His hands felt like ice. His body was thin. A gray beard covered his face. He wore a gold wedding band.

    Inquisitive shoppers moved closer. Removing my coat, I covered him. A young man with spiked hair removed his leather coat, bundled it into a ball, lifting the gentleman’s head.

    “Does he have a pulse?” He asked.

    “I didn’t check.” My lips quivered.

    “It’s okay. I’m a medical student.” He checked for a pulse, nodding yes.

    The gentleman coughed.

    “Sir, can you tell me what day it is?”

    “Saturday. And if you ask me who the President is, I’m gonna scream.”

    The medical student laughed. “You’ve heard these questions a lot, huh?”

    “Doctors think I’m out of my mind, but I’m not. I’ve been in the hospital a lot. I got weak crossing the road. I must’ve blacked out. Bernice wanted to get here early for the sale.”

    “Where’s your wife?” I said.

    “Parking the car. I had chemo this week.”

    I warmed his freezing hands with mine. “Chemo,” I muttered, understanding his weakness.

    Joan joined me, touching my shoulder. “You okay?”

    I nodded.

    “Cancer,” I said. “You go shopping. I’ll stay with him.”

    “Sirens,” someone said. “They’re coming.”

    The man squeezed my hand. “Don’t leave me,” he said.

    “I’ll be here until we find Bernice.”

    “She’s buying me some fishing tackle.”

    “You must like to fish,” I said, hoping he’d remain alert. “Is there someone else we can call?”

    “My grandson, Hank. His number’s in my wallet.”

    The medical student found his wallet, dialed the number.

    When EMS arrived, a pretty older woman joined us. She smiled at me and thanked me. “I’m Bernice. His wife. Thanks for helping him,” she said.

    While sitting inside Ruby Tuesday’s for lunch, I found myself able to talk. A sudden burst of adrenalin had me chatting non-stop about Dad’s terminal illness, forgiveness and death.

    “When I was little, I was hit by a car. My Grammy said I was spared for a reason,” I said to Joan, sipping a steaming French vanilla coffee. “Until today, I never understood what she meant. I couldn’t leave that man in the road.”

    “You really have a way with old people,” she said.

    I laughed. “Thanks to cancer. I’ve never told you this, but my relationship with my parents wasn’t good. Until Dad got sick, I couldn’t forgive them.”

    I looked around the crowded restaurant. “Life is so short. So unfair. I’ve always taken life a bit too seriously… Now, I try to find the rainbows… I’ve started praying every night. That’s something I didn’t do for many years. I was racing on an endless spinning wheel.” I paused.

    “Dad’s illness was a wake up call. His faith taught me to step out of that rat race and reach out to others. Two days before he died, I visited him like I always did. I didn’t want him to die without me there. On July 4th he was sitting in his rocking chair, reading the Bible. When he saw me arrive, he raised his voice, asking me what I was doing there. I thought he was angry, so I only stayed a few minutes. I didn’t visit the next day. Now that he’s gone, I realized he was detaching. He knew his days on earth were numbered. Maybe God spoke to him.”

    “You were remarkable,” Joan said. The daily visits, the letters you wrote to his family and friends every month. The care you gave him. He was blessed.”

    “I was blessed. People come into our lives for a purpose, and God brought Dad back into my life, forcing me to wake up. Rebuilding that relationship gave me the courage I need to live the rest of my life and to make a few changes. Just when we think the door has closed, God opens a window. What more can I ask for?”

    My cell phone rang. The medical student shared an updated report about the gentleman in the road. He was stable. Bernice was by his side.

    The experience of stopping to help a total stranger during that holiday season opened my eyes and heart to our purpose in life. Each life has a reason for existence. My grandmother always told me to look for rainbows when life gives us detours. As a child, I didn’t understand her wisdom. Now, older and much wiser, I appreciated her words.

    When life brings rain, look for the rainbow. Grammy’s wisdom about God, along with my dad’s, was instilled forever inside my heart.

    -30-

    Born in Columbus, Georgia, Barbie Perkins-Cooper is a talented, award-winning writer of screenplays, fiction, non-fiction, plays, and numerous articles for regional and trade publications. She began her writing career as a child, publishing a science fiction story during third grade in Atlanta, Georgia. Her areas of writing expertise include fiction, non-fiction, articles, plays and screenplays. In 2001, she published a complex memoir based on her father’s battle with esophageal cancer. The non-fiction memoir is titled, “Condition of Limbo.”

    As a writer of accomplishment, she works diligently to achieve her goals as a professional screenwriter and playwright. She was selected as a finalist in the teleplay category with her screenplay, the Commish…The Signature Rapist. Additional screenplays were selected as finalist for the Chesterfield Writers’ Film Project and the Goldie Film Awards, Fade In competition, The Writers Network, and America’s Best, The Writers Foundation. In February 2004, she was awarded the Grand Goldie Film Award for her screenplay, Not My Papa.

    Barbie Perkins-Cooper is a member of The Society of Professional Journalists and North Carolina Writers Network. SIn her spare time, she likes to kick off her shoes, and relax on the beaches of South Carolina. Writing is her passion.

  • To All of My Readers Thank You For Your Interest and Comments


    Dearest Readers:

    This will be brief, due to an eye infection, I must not be on the computer for any length of time; however, since I’ve had so many readers inquire as to how difficult it is to blog, write…etc…I would like to respond.

    Many of you have stated you keep a journal. As a child and a young woman, I did the same. Writing in a diary or journal was a family tradition, until my dad died. After that date, July 6, 1999. I stopped writing in a journal. It simply broke my heart to follow that tradition so I chose to write – on my computer instead. Now, that I blog, I usually write in my blog, sometimes freewriting, other times, using a topic I have chosen. If something ruffles my feathers, you can bet, I will vocalize these incidents in my blog. Just read some of my topics and you will discover.

    Is setting up a blog difficult? Many have asked that question. My simple answer is no. I enjoy using WordPress.com; however, I do find adding images or photographs difficult. Perhaps I need to upgrade. Who knows? I am a bit skeptical adding my photographs anyway, because they are my professional images and I do not want others to copy or steal them.

    But what do I write, you might ask? Just open a ‘vein and let it bleed.’ If something ruffles your feathers, write about it. If something ticks you off — write about it. A few years ago, after a disturbing incident at Ralph H. Johnson Veterans Hospital, locally in Charleston, I wrote about a rude nurse who told me, and I quote, “If you don’t like our service, you can go elsewhere.” I spun quickly on my heel, and I inhaled…exhaled…and then…I used my Julia Sugarbaker style to let that young, inconsiderate RUDE nurse maybe she could go elsewhere. I came home. Opened my blog, and I wrote about that incident. Yes, it is still here on my blog…Let’s just say, before my letter could get to the appropriate departments at the VA Hospital, I got a phone call. In fact several phone calls.
    Apologies…This only proves how quickly the Internet is to vocalize your opinion. However, I caution you to be correct…don’t embellish and make certain you are writing the truth.

    I suppose I am from the old school of writing. I research and confirm my facts, I do not embellish, and I encourage others to do the same.

    They say to write what you know…and that is what I do here — on my blog. If I can assist you, just leave a comment or e-mail me. I have a web presence, so I am fairly easy to locate.

    Thank you, all of you for reading my blog. I hope you will continue. And now, I must close this and rest this silly eye. Funny, just before it got so red, I noticed that I could see better without my contacts. I think God has healed my sight. Isn’t that wonderful!

    Goodnight world. I look forward to your comments. Meanwhile, just write. WordPress.com is a great place to share your thoughts. May God bless us everyone!

  • When Customer Service Makes Your Day


    Dearest Readers:

    After my last post, maybe I should write an update. Yesterday was a bad day for me…one where I wanted to simply crawl into the woodwork and NEVER come out. Today, I am happy to report is a good day.

    At least it has started off better. Yesterday, I had one of my emotional meltdowns, right in front of a complete stranger. All I could do was cry, like a baby, as my husband would say.

    Yesterday, when I had my meltdown I was at Gerald’s Tires, attempting to get an estimate on brakes and one more tire. I suppose I wasn’t communicating correctly since I was so stressed, but a kind and gentle guy at Gerald’s suddenly became my guardian angel. While I was struggling to communicate, between sighs and tears, a guy named Greg entered the area. He touched my hand, told me everything was going to be ok and they could get me an estimate on these repairs. Well, you guessed it — I burst into tears.

    Why? I don’t know. Somebody turned on the water works and I could not stop.

    Today, my car is at Gerald’s, to receive the final new tire and brakes. Now, when I travel alone, I will be safe. No monster will find me broken down, or with a flattened or blown out tire along the road. Thank you, God! Thank you, Gerald’s Tires — most especially, thank you, Greg! You were my knight in shining armor yesterday, and today on the phone. There is something to be said about customer service, and I must say, Gerald’s Tires in Mount Pleasant, SC is doing the right thing with their customer service! No Good Ole Boys — just GREAT CUSTOMER SERVICE and they appear to understand the frustrations from a woman’s perspective! Now, I feel better — my writing day can begin!

  • Mother Nature…Chilling Breezes…and the Good Ole Boys!


    Dearest Readers:

    Someone on Facebook mentioned a freewriting site that is private, so here I am typing away. I suppose it could be referred to as ‘freewriting,’ the infamous writing tasks that writers do to get the wheels in motion so they can write. I am only one of those writers. At times, I struggle to get the words down. Other times, my fingers cannot dance across the keyboard quickly enough. So be it. We are writers. Thomas Wolfe once said, “Writing is easy…you just open a vein and bleed.” How I can relate!

    But, one might ask — what is freewriting, and why should I care? Duh! Freewriting is a form of just getting the words down, and that is what I am doing today — just to see IF this will help me to write regularly. Reportedly, when a writer ‘freewrites,’ he or she doesn’t correct the spelling, doesn’t edit, but simply writes. I have the tendency to correct and edit as I write. Maybe that’s why I find freewriting torture!

    As a writer, I now hate the task of writing. Years ago, in college, I did not understand when the professor stated that writers HATE to write. I disagreed with him. Well now, older, wiser, and still rejected at times, — a reality that ALL writers face — I can truly share that my professor was correct. There are times I hate to write.

    My readers tell me that I can write and that they ‘love reading my stories.’ How I laugh. While I appreciate the kindness of my reading public, I do not share how stressed I get when I cannot write. An example of that is yesterday. I had the day planned, starting with taking my car to the garage to be serviced. I asked the Dodge garage to check my car thoroughly. When completed, they shared that I needed a new tire and my rear brakes were wearing out. The quote for this was almost $400, so I drove to another site, Gerald’s, to be exact. When I told my husband about the quote, of course, he questioned everything. “We just bought you four new tires,” he screamed.

    “Nope. If you recall, we bought three tires.”

    He wanted to argue, and this set me off. My husband could easily be the king of the good ole boys club! After hanging up with him, I burst into tears. Never does he believe me and he always has to correct me — convinced that I am wrong; however, this time he is incorrect and I can prove it with the invoices from the tire purchases. I ask you — why do men have to ALWAYS be right? Like all humans, they are not perfect, although my husband totally disagrees. He NEVER MAKES MISTAKES. Oh, please! The tears continue to pour and I am so angry I could scream! An ocean of tears that refused to stop. ‘Why am I crying?’ I asked myself. ‘There’s no need for these tears.’

    I inhaled. Exhaled. Meditated. Looked up into the gray skies and had a discussion with God. Finally, the stress lifted and I was able to wipe my tears away. When my husband came home, thank goodness his mood improved. He held me close, suggesting we go out for dinner, so I could relax.

    “Just go get us something. I don’t want to do anything tonight.”

    Later, I sat on the couch, catching up on the stack of newspapers that I hadn’t had the time to read for five days.

    Why is my life so stressful? Why can’t I manage my time better? Maybe I’m spending too much time on Facebook, so effective this morning, I am cutting back on my time on social media, I plan to organize and clean out my e-mail system, and I plan to write more.

    Still freewriting here.

    Today is a new day. The sun is shining brightly on this bitterly cold spring day. According to Weather Bug, the temperature outside in Charleston, SC is a crisp 36 degrees. Normally by this date, I have a nice tan. Not this year. I haven’t been to the beach at all this spring. It is much too chilly for me, and if I’m not careful, I will get overly chilled and get dreadfully sick. Today, I still need to wear tights, sweaters and coats. I have no idea what is happening with Mother Nature and I am curious — just WHO made her so angry that she decided to extend her winter breezes? Maybe this is Mother Nature’s way of retaliating with the good ole boys! As for me, I would love to embrace Mother Nature and tell her it is time to ‘move forward with life…not look back!’ Yes, Mother Nature — are you listening? We have thick layers of pollen flying around, mixed with the bitterness of your cool breezes. This is Charleston, SC. The number one tourist destination!?! Yes, I know — the city better known as the ‘good ole boys’ club…Well, just maybe it is time for those good ole boys to step down and let Mother Nature do her best, like she always does. We need warm weather here — not chilling winter breezes. Besides, I am sick of dealing with ‘good ole boys!’ They have such a 1950’s attitude about women, and this woman refuses to give in to the good ole boys. Grow up guys, and be a real man!

    Still struggling to write the 750 words needed on this site, while I sip another warm cup of freshly brewed coffee. My children are playing outside, barking, wanting to come inside. I suppose they want to be warm. Maybe I’ll stop for now and embrace my children. Maybe it’s time for me to move forward and thank God for another day, even IF it is still cold! Br-rrr! I miss springtime! As for the ‘good ole boys’ I say — who cares! I will let Mother Nature take care of them, and she is definitely a woman no man wants to cross! If you are a good ole boy, please recognize it is time you moved into the Twenty-first Century!!!

  • March 20, 2014 — Welcome to The First Day of Spring!


    Dearest Readers:

    Today I awaken to the first day of spring. Living in the South, my absolute favorite time of the year is springtime — when the earth is awakening to new life. Pollen. The blooming of fresh spring flowers. The scents and aromas of freshness. Jasmine. Mimosa. Daisies. Honey Suckle. Azaleas. And how can I possibly leave out the beauty and aromatic scents of roses.

    The USA has endured a bitterly cold winter. Some areas still have snow. Many of the schools in North Carolina have nine school days to makeup after the freezing temperatures and snow days. Little did those children realize that when they have a snow day and are able to romp and play in the snow, when the weather warms, they must make up those days. Their reply is a simple one, “Well…that’s so not fair!”

    How true! Isn’t life all about change and growth? In the eyes of little children they learn at an early age that life just isn’t fair.

    Nevertheless, today is the first day of spring. I awoke a bit late. Exhausted from lack of sleep, I took a sleeping pill last night, in hopes I would sleep. My silly big guy, my giant schnauzer, Prince Midnight Shadow must have a sleeping problem too. He awakens every hour or so demanding to go outside, and so, I stumble around the house to let him outside. When he rushes back to his bed, I scold him a bit telling him “Mommy needs sleep. Please let me sleep little buddy!”

    He does not grant me that wish. If ONLY he would sleep longer!

    Today is a gloriously beautiful day in Charleston. A day where I would love to walk on the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge, but I’m much too tired. Maybe the exhaustion is related to such a long and cold winter in the tourist mecca of Charleston. I have worn my collection of sweaters, fur coats and mittens too much. Did I actually say I wore mittens? In Charleston? Yes. I wore them so much I actually placed an additional pair in my glove compartment so my freezing hands would get warm quickly.

    I don’t adjust well to cold weather. My sinuses ache, along with my fingers and my right knee. My demeanor on days filled with gray clouds and bitterly cold temperatures decrease my mood. I have threatened to run away from the cold. A friend asked me — “Where would you go?”

    Without thinking twice I replied, “Hawaii. I would sell everything and move to Hawaii.”

    Now, that’s a delightful thought. Maybe I’ll click on to my photographs of Hawaii and dream about those radiant sunrises and sunsets. The hula dancing and cuisine. The people. If ever there is a place to vacation — to get away from it all — Hawaii is the place!

    And so, I awaken to the first day of spring — to face reality once again. Looking outside, I do not see robins in my yard, nor do I see butterflies. I so look forward to seeing them again. Springtime. I confess, Charleston, SC is a BEAUTIFUL city in the spring when the flowers are blooming, the Azalea Festival arrives, along with all of the college graduations and I must mention the destination weddings in the chapels and along the beaches. How I love springtime. Achoo…now –just where are my tissues? Yes, I have allergies and cannot open my windows to enjoy the fresh warmth of the breezes in spring time, nor can my allergies appreciate the thick layer of pollen flying into the house. Regardless, I will tolerate all of the pollen and sinus headaches because — TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING. After my lawn dries out I can FINALLY rake my yard, plant flowers and enjoy this beautiful city….and soon…..SO SOON…I will not only walk on the bridge, I will slip my toes on the sand and walk along Sullivan’s Island, and I will look for the coyotes too! After all, it is springtime. The earth is fresh with new growth and change, and I embrace it all!

    Hello, Mother Springtime. It’s about time you arrived!

  • Another Gray Day — In My Dreams I Live in Hawaii!


    Dearest Readers:

    Today is Monday…another day of rain and gray clouds. I am so sick of this rain and the grayness. It is so depressing. Winter is a time where the sun appears to choose to stay within the clouds, instead of beaming with rich colors and warmth. On days like today, I simply want to run away. I spoke to a dear friend earlier. She resides in North Carolina and they are getting ice again. Will this weather EVER improve?

    Yes, we have had a few days of sunshine, but not many. Last week I noticed a robin in my back yard. The first sign of spring. My dad and I played a game every year to see who would see the first robin. Usually, he was the winner. He was retired at the time and took his ‘daily strolls’ so he managed to see the robins. I, on the other hand, was practically married to Corporate America, so my days were spent recruiting students, writing speeches and other unpredictable demands of my life in Corporate America. Let’s don’t even discuss weekends. Corporate America demanded ALL of my TIME!

    Now, as a writer, I have the time to look for robins and I must say, seeing that beautiful robin in my back yard, directing his look at me sitting by my window, I felt the presence of my dad and I knew, springtime is just around the corner and I want to embrace it tightly! Last week, I planned to work in my yard. To rake the leaves and place them in my compost pile. When I went outside to do that, the lawn was still too wet, so I chose to do some spring cleaning instead. The weekend, it rained. Today, rain again — it is STILL RAINING while I write this. Will it EVER stop? Normally by now in Charleston, SC the azaleas are blooming along with other flowers. This year? Every thing is still soaked, or just beginning to bud. Saturday, when I stripped the beds, I removed my electric blanket. Today, it is 44 degrees at the moment. How I wish I’d left that warm and toasty blanket on my bed. Oh well. I’ll simply have to snuggle up close just to get warm. It has been such a cold winter for us here in Charleston. I’m ready to sell everything and move to a warmer climate — maybe Hawaii!!!

    At least a girl can dream, and in my dreams I live in Hawaii and I stroll along on Waikiki Beach daily. Never did I feel threatened or unsafe in Hawaii.

    I suppose this gray, wet day is getting the best of me because all I am doing today is rambling. Oops…make that is freewriting instead! Heaven forbid if I rambled! How I wish I was back in Hawaii again! Yes, walking along the streets to International Market Place, dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, my camera and phone nearby.

    Oh, how I’d love to get a trip to Hawaii again! The climate is magnificent, and even when it rains, it is only for a short while. Later, the sun comes out, and the day is beautiful! Incidentally, I have photographs to prove it!

    Aloha!!!

  • Resurrection – the New Show That Has Me Hooked!


    Dearest Readers:

    I am happy to report the sun is shining beautifully today. I awoke early to beaming sunshine just breaking through and I wanted to kiss it – instead, I blew it a kiss. Aren’t I silly! Since daylight savings time arrived, I have difficulty with sleeping once again. Just what I needed! Nevertheless, I recognize mornings will start earlier, but the day is longer, and that I welcome. I cannot wait to take a long walk on the beach again. I have missed it so much.

    Yes, spring is in the air and I am so pleased to welcome it. Last night I watched a new shop that debuted — RESURRECTION. I admit it — I am hooked on it! Even though I fell asleep while watching it, and I was so thankful that I recorded it — to watch later — in the event I fell asleep. This morning, I watched it, and I think it is one of the greatest, new shows I have watched in a long time — with the exception of Nashville, that is!

    Unlike Nashville, the characters are not sleeping around — yet! http://abc.go.com/shows/resurrection/video/most-recent/VDKA0_g7ijsaiu
    Let’s hope that continues!

    To summarize “Resurrection,” Jason died 32 years ago, but he returned as an eight-year-old child. There are many characters to learn and I honestly cannot list anymore of them in this writing, but I do believe in resurrection and this show is mesmerizing. No profanity! [And that is a definite plus]. The episode appears to move quickly, along with the storyline.

    I confess, lately I’ve lost interest in going to the movies and watching TV. I do not watch reality shows since they are filled with bleeps, but you can still read their lips and tell the F-bomb is exploding again. As for the movies, I so hate hearing the F-bomb every other word. Enough of it! My husband says I must just tune out these words, but how can you — when F-bomb is a constant recording that refuses to stop.

    Yes, I am an aspiring screenwriter; however, I do not write the F-bomb into my screenplays. Perhaps that is why I am STILL an ASPIRING screenwriter who has won awards — but no options. Who knows. I simply refuse to lower my standards. Perhaps I am from the old school, but I do strive not to curse, and when I do slip up and say a few of the ‘normal’ words, I am told not to apologize. You must understand. When I was a child, I was raised in a Pentecostal, Assembly of God religion. If we so much as said “gosh” we were punished.

    Watching “Resurrection” I was taken back to a time when stories were written for families to watch. I do hope “Resurrection” is resurrected for television. We need more quality shows — not ones that are of the ‘reality’ nature where class, quality family life, and standards no longer exist. It’s no wonder I don’t watch much television anymore, and perhaps why I am careful what movies I see. I am sick of F-bombs! As a screenwriter, I do watch those movies nominated for awards, although many times, after a few expletives, I close my eyes so I can sleep. I was able to get through “Dallas Buyers Club,” while striving to shut my ears to the vocabulary used.

    Yes, “Resurrection” has me hooked — for now! Let us hope it is successful! Maybe I will actually have something to watch on Sunday nights now, instead of my collection of the “Golden Girls!”