Who Flipped The Switch?

This is the first year in many that I can remember an immediate change of seasons...no transitions. The last post I did was smack in the middle of a red flag warning with bone-dry conditions. The very first day of Autumn all of the forest creatures around here were scrambling for their Personal Flotation Devices and we experienced a climate change, although I didn't see Al Gore's jet go over to confirm that.

I've seen this kind of thing happen before only at higher elevations. You get tucked into your toasty sleeping bag and the next morning is dead quiet, which motivates a person to find a nearby tree. That's when you find the six inches of fresh snow on the ground and you're looking for much closer trees.

I failed my Farmers' Almanac course, so I can't tell you what kind of winter we might have - normal or ugly. I find myself being thankful for my 4-wheel drive. No one likes to get stuck in 2-inches of icy slush. You'd have to live in Western Washington to understand that logic.

The nice part is that plenty of writing can be accomplished in the foul weather months, assuming you've got a story line to work on. I can only surmise the attendant boredom that might occur with a few power outages, since we have some healthy wind storms and tall trees that begin to become nuisances around November here.

I might have to rough it and use pencil and paper plus a good candle if it gets bad enough. I'm not even sure that I can hand write anything any more. It's been a while. Will someone let me know when Summer gets here?

Gary

Two Weeks Already?

I noticed that it's been a bit since our last parlay, so I figured I'd better catch up before someone noticed my absence! Everything has been straightened out as far as the new book edits go. I double-checked that a couple of nights ago.

The next book is brewing somewhere in the recesses of my grey matter and I fully expect it to burst forth any time now...any time now, brain. I've been perusing the notes I kept from the Montana trip and they amuse me no end. I am perhaps the only person who has been excited about seeing a bazillion prairie dogs out on the plains only to find out that they were ground squirrels. What a Greenhorn!

I had to take a little more time off due to my Dad's second round in the hospital last week. Thankfully, it wasn't his heart. His symptoms stopped as soon as the Paramedic stabbed him with an IV. I have always believed in acupuncture and this just proved my theory.

Would you believe that Western Washington of all places is under a red flag warning? What that means to those who may not know is that it is too dry to burn anything, including campfires. It kind of screws up the old weeny roast season, but winter will arrive soon enough.

Meanwhile, don't forget to feed your sourdough and make sure your cast iron skillets are seasoned up and your longjohns are patched. It might be a long winter.

Gary

Constructs Of A Mild Panic Attack

There was a period of time between my Fire Service retirement and writing novels that stress was not a major factor...except that one instance where my heart quit for a few seconds in the Cardiac Cath lab. Otherwise, things weren't too bad. I had a good thing going, but started to get bored. The next thing you know, I took up writing fiction and loved it. My long-stifled creativity came to the surface and, like every other author in existence, had moments of envisioning a comfortable existence lounging on my veranda with a nice bottle to nurse while I penned my next masterpiece. Then it started happening. Everything had a deadline of one sort or another, just like before my retirement. Edits, forms, marketing plans, more edits, and learning new rules from somewhere in Chicago to write by that I had never seen before, but had to reformat my manuscript to fit them in amazingly short periods of time. The rubber was not only meeting the road, but also running over the author, especially in my latest submission. All of the necessary documents were sent to me in "read only" format. Everything I completed and returned was unchanged. No corrections noted even after supposedly switching off the "read only" feature. My first deadline was August 24th and I sent the manuscript on the 9th. I got word back on the deadline of the problem. Now she wanted it by the 1st. There was no way to re-edit 522 hours worth of corrections. That's where the panic began to rise. I became stressed. Then I realized that my contract had a deadline of October 1st - not September 1st, and wouldn't you know it, but I think I found the file I needed and sent it along the next day. Stress relieved, at least momentarily. Moral of the story: Don't panic until you're the slowest guy running from the bear. Gary

A Visitation By My Best Friend

This must be some sort of record: two visits in a month that I've seen my Best Bud who I went to Junior High and most of High School with. He must've been bored. We have a long history of significant life events that unfolded over the years starting with #2 pencils. He had a penchant for stabbing me in the hands with them every chance he got. It couldn't be that I teased him mercilessly about his height back then because he was approximately the size of a Hobbit. I still have pencil tattoos to this day. As the years passed, he worked as a carpenter who became one with the house he was building. His boss put a rather large nail through some wood above him where his head was in proximity to. It drove into his skull and stuck him to the upstairs woodwork. Thank goodness his brain was not overly large or it could've caused irreparable damage. He got all whiny and spent some time in the hospital looking for sympathy, though. Then later on he contracted cancer and went through the whole chemo protocol driving back and forth to Spokane. I was privileged to give him his last chemo ride up there and we managed to mutually regurgitate the entire way back, some two hundred miles. It was memorable. As if that wasn't enough, we camped out on the American River "roughing it" and were flooded out of our camp. I distinctly remember him saying, "We'll be fine." It was a long, wet drive back to town that night. The reason I bring this up is because he volunteered to attach the license plates onto my new truck. It involved screws and tools with sharp ends. I rapidly exited to my back yard on the other side of my house, waiting for the screams of pain to erupt throughout the neighborhood. He's my best friend, but he's awfully high maintenance! Why tempt the odds? Gary

Caught Up In The Whirlwind

Shoot, things haven't slowed down in over a week. Last Saturday was #2 Daughter's wedding; Sunday my Dad had a heart attack and spent most of the week in ICU/PCU; got my pre-edit to the new book completed and sent; today is #3 Daughter's wedding in Seattle. I still have forms to send to my editor before the 24th.

I still haven't caught my breath from my Montana expedition and my body is letting me know how displeased it is with all this commotion. I sincerely hope that the coming days will allow for some recuperation before the snow flies.

I'm not sure that I want to see the light at the end of the tunnel, though. You know what will happen and I don't really want to be the hood ornament for an oncoming freight train. The weight of the world is more than enough.

If you hear of a rabid man careening through the streets of the Pacific Northwest, that would be me just having snapped my twig. It won't be pretty.

Gary

You Are Officially Falling Apart

I didn't fully understand or appreciate the cascade effect until lately. Just before my Montana trip, docs from all walks of profession started coming up with new maladies for my perusal. It wasn't just one; it was a few.

"Because such-and-such happened, you've now got so-and-so, that complicates your original 'aches and pains.' I now see so many medical types that remembering their area of expertise and office locations escapes my recollection sometimes.

While in Montana, I get a phone call saying "we've taken the liberty to refer you to these two or three physicians. You need to call them to make appointments. This was the day after sitting on wooden bleachers for a Pow Wow. My hips, knees and lower back were stilling reacquiring feeling. I guess arthritis does that. If it wasn't for my walking stick, I would have undoubtedly been ambulating on my knees.

It seemed like old soldier's week when I got back. You've got too much swelling, take these pills; the reason for your swelling is because of your liver, not your heart; physical therapy in the pool twice a week should help the arthritis; by the way you've got a UTI, but there still aren't any more kidney stones - take this antibiotic.

It all comes down to abusing the old body for too long and now it's abusing me back. It's getting even for all those Paramedic and Firefighter tasks I urged it to do for thirty years. At least I got it out the other side alive, if not in one piece! What more does it want?

I can only hope that the body parts stabilize. Having something fall off in a local shopping establishment might look tacky. Now I must work on some editing before a finger falls off and I have to relearn how to use a keyboard.

Gary



What A Week!

I pulled into the driveway after a 13 hour jaunt back across 2 1/2 states last night from Browning, MT. Browning is in Eastern MT near the Rockies and Glacier National Park.

I spent 5 days sucking up as much information as I could and wasn't disappointed, so by Saturday night I decided that all things considered, it was time to pack up and head back Sunday before my body quit working completely. If you ever want to see a humungous Pow Wow, Browning is the place to go during the third week of July. Tribes from across the Country show up and you get an eye- and earful.

One thing I didn't plan during my scouting of the larger area was to have the transmission of my pride and joy 2007 Chevy Silverado become history. Fortunately, I was just coming into Cut Bank and they had a GM dealership there. It was Friday the 11th. A new tranny couldn't be shipped and installed until about the 23rd. I was stuck.

Wouldn't you know that a 2014 crewcab truck identical in color to mine was sitting in their lot? I wanted the awesome blue one sitting next to it, but it was only a 6 cylinder - this was an 8 like I had.

The Mayor of Cut Bank was my salesman, which originally gave me pause, but by the time he walked me through all the options, I realized he was honest. He could sell me the new truck for a hundred dollars less a month than what I was paying for my old one!

So, what could have been a disaster turned out to be a blessing. New truck, new warranty, new improved gadgets and I could complete my original goal of researching the Blackfeet Tribe. Next time I'll tell you about the $150 a night rooms at the area motels and why it's a blessing to have generous parents!

This next book will have a truckload of memories piled in its bed and I'm still alive to tell about them!

Gary