A Spiritual Experience--At A Bar

Christy Snow And The Free Spirits

I ran into a spiritual experience quite by accident when I went with a couple friends to The Grape at the North Lake Mall last night. Okay, it is a bar but that just makes my discovery all the more extraordinary.
The entertainment was Christy Snow and the Free Spirits who played songs that ran the gambit from funny tunes about camping trips and a dog to new found hope and confidence in the unfolding of life. A few songs were familiar to me but most of the songs were written by Ms Snow. She played the guitar, harmonica (often together like Tom Petty) and the Native American Flute. There’s something haunting and peaceful in the music of the Native American Flute. Her voice resonated in a rich, smoky tone that reminded me of K. D. Lang.
At break time I got a chance to talk to her and found that she used to work in corporate America making a pretty decent salary and gave it up to go into her musical career full force. I couldn’t help but relate to her on that level since I just retired from nursing to pursue my writing career even in the face of this recession or depression according to how you feel about a drastic drop in the economy worldwide. Her philosophy was that your life unfolds the way it should and you just have to be open to the positive. I asked her to give me her life philosophy in one sentence. Yeah, I put her on the spot but not intentionally. I just wanted to understand how, based on the content of her songs, she could come up smiling with such a great attitude about life. She responded faster than I would have been able to with, “Life is for us.” Sounds simple enough unless, like me, you feel so often that life is against us and spin in a spiral of negative thinking about the if only’s in life. She also said something else that I can relate to. Having worked in the emergency room for many years, I’ve seen the frequent underbelly of life and the way human spirit can deteriorate into self-destruction and self-gratification not to mention abusive behavior. By the time I retired, I’d had about all I could take of the “what’s in it for me” mentality. Ms Snow said, “Whatever you believe, like people are basically good, you have to believe even when times get rough.” Way easier said than done but a thing to hang on to like a raft in a storm.
Turns out Christy Snow is a minister. Wouldn’t you just know it? She delivers sermons and sings her uplifting songs every Sunday at The Center For Positive Living at 6101 Idlewild Rd., #332, Charlotte, NC 28212.
As a writer, I was interested in lyric writing. I can write stories long and short and I can write poetry but lyrics, well, I just don’t seem to have that unique gift. I asked Ms Snow about that, about being born with a gift to write lyrics and she insisted that anyone can do it if they want to. She said an amazing thing in regards to poetry and lyrics. A friend of hers sent her an eloquent poem and told her she could use it to come up with a song. Ms Snow said the poem could be changed into several songs. She “chopped it up” into the lyrics for several songs saying that lyrics are easier to write than poetry. Lyrics still mystify me but I’m going to take her word for it and figure that I must not “want to” enough.
I hope, if you ever get the chance, you go to one of her gigs and hear some spiritually uplifting and sometimes funny songs and her amazing talent on her instruments. Her website has the dates and places where she and the Free Spirits will be playing. www.christysnow.com You’ll come away with an inspired heart.
Sarah

Happy Birthday Snookie

My oldest sister, Marlene whom we fondly called Snookie, would have celebrated her seventy-first birthday today. I love this old high school picture of her. This is how I remember her the best before life took its toll on her.

She made me laugh and she loved road trips. She was one of the few people I totally trusted in a car. She taught me how to drive but I was not that good a student. She had a lot of courage just taking me on since I stink at driving.

Snookie made the best peanut butter fudge I've ever tasted and she played canasta with me and the parents as my partner. We cheated. We had this whole hand signal thing going on but we rarely won. My parents were like the champs at canasta.

Snookie had five kids and they were more like my siblings than nieces and nephew. We hung out together. I went with her and her five kids to my first rock concert--the Dave Clark Five. You probably don't remember them but it was quite a scream fest and I loved it. My first husband who was my best friend then, went with us.

My big sister died on February 13, the same day my dog Kate died. Years of smoking and not taking very good care of herself took her away. She took a part of my history with her especially my restless, reckless days, that I can never have back again. There is one less person for me to reminisce with about the "old days."

So, here's to you Snookie, wherever you are in the universe. I hope you're having fun, maybe getting in another game of canasta with the parents.

I will always love you.

Happy Easter/Passover

Happy Easter

Whether you have a wild and crazy Easter, a fun family time dinner or a sweet time for two Easter, just enjoy it and be happy to be on the earth for another unfolding of Spring and renewal.

My family is coming for an Easter luncheon. We are all pitching in with our favorite dishes. Betsy is bringing a bunny cake, ambrosia and asparagus, Matthew made a squash casserole and iced tea, Madeline and I dyed eggs and made party favors and I'm making deviled eggs, salad, baked chicken and potato salad. My sister, Mary, is off the hook because she volunteered to work today. I have to appreciate that she usually has the Sunday dinners.

I'm also going to take a little private time today to remember those that I've lost this year, my friend, Joyce Henderson, my loving dog, Kate and my sister, Marlene, whose birthday would have been April 17. Then I'm going to start planning my vacation to Hilton Head (a retirement gift to me from Mike Hinson) and start looking for a puppy and plant a garden so I can get some happiness back into my life. It's time for me to look forward to something.

Whatever you and your family are doing to celebrate today, I wish you joy.

All good things to your corner of the universe.

Sarah

NEWS FLASH!

I thought you should know that my books from New Concepts Publishing, DARK ISLE and LAKE OF SORROWS, are no longer available. The contracts have run out on them. I'll continue writing The Valmora series but through another publisher some time in the future. THE LIGHT OF VALMORA is in progress as I speak and I have fallen in love with the main character, Falcon.

Here is the blurb:

THE LIGHT OF VALMORA BLURB

To free his father from the Queen of the Dark Isle, Falcon must find the legendary Light of Valmora which lies hidden in the darkest place on earth. To complicate things further, he is falling in love with Izabelle, his brother’s woman.

Once rejected by Peregrine, Izabelle wants revenge. But when she tries to use Falcon to initiate her plan, everything gets out of control along with her heart.

In the meantime, I'd like to remind you that the Amira Press Egg Hunt is still in progress. To find out the details just go to http://www.amirapress.com/ and click on the egg icon. If you're looking for the egg icon on my website, here's a little hint: scroll way in down the blog and you might get lucky.

Ta Ta For Now

Sarah

OUR BIRTHDAY

My dad (Jim McNeal) with his dog Guess

All my life I shared my birthday with Pop. Our birthday is on March 18. As a kid I resented sharing the attention with my dad. Being the self involved urchin that I was and most children are, I wanted my own birthday cake. So, for a while, we had two cakes: coconut for Pop and vanilla with bananas between the layers for me. I know my mom was glad when I got over that episode of “it’s all about me” behavior.

As we spent more and more birthdays together, we began to plan our birthday dinner in cooperation each getting a choice on what food we wanted and what kind of cake (only one) we desired. When we went to renew our drivers’ licenses every four years, we started planning what costumes we would wear. I did everything from a Nehru jacket to a cowgirl outfit. It became an event and was special to us.

Pop was quite a liberal thinker. He let my sister, Mary, and I draw pictures and write on our bedroom walls. When notes came home from my teacher that I kept my book bag with me at all the time, even at recess, my dad sent her a note back telling her to let me do it because it was my way of dealing with separation from my mom while I was at school. He laughed when Mary and I burned down the closet and the fire department came to put it out. Okay, that was after he punished us and he had no idea we heard him when he made light of it. Being a meteorologist, he taught me about the weather, how fronts worked and what the different clouds were. We went on nature walks, learned how to make a vegetable garden, what the stars were in the night sky and taught us to always have bird feeders and what the different birds like to eat. I learned how to write a check and balance my checkbook, trust in my fellow humans and how to become self reliant from my dad.

I was thirty-seven when I spent my first birthday without him. The magic and fun was suddenly gone. Some years I don’t really want a fuss made over me on my birthday and other years I’m okay with the special attention. But regardless of how I feel, happy or sad, I always remember to play my dad’s favorite bagpipe tune and light a candle in his memory. Even though we used to scrap a lot with each other and our tempers would flare from time to time over my need for independence, my dad was my protector, my guru of wisdom, my sparring partner and my friend. He believed in me and he stuck up for me and I will hold my memories of him dear to my heart always.

Happy birthday Pop.

Amira Press Easter Egg Hunt

Easter Egg Hunt at Amira Press

Amira Press is going to be starting an egg hunt starting March first. You could just win a bunch of goodies for gathering up the egg icons from the authors. So why don't you get on over there and check it out soon. http://www.amirapress.com/

I'll have more details for you later most likely so stayed tuned.

I'm looking forward to happier times.

Sarah

In Honor of Kate and Marlene

My dearest friends, Kathy Groce and Maureen Tohill, came over this morning to support me and remember Kate whom they both had great fondness for. While Maureen made us breakfast, Kathy uploaded these most recent pictures of Kate that I would like to share with you. For the time that they spent with me, my day was a little brighter. I'm so lucky to have such wonderful friends.

More sad news.

An hour after Kate died, I got a phone call from the nurse in Intensive Care in Minnesota who told me that my big sister, Marlene, had died. Her nickname was Snookie. She taught me how to drive. She was the only one with the patience and courage to do it. The best peanut butter fudge I ever ate was made by my big sister. When I was 15, I would go to her house and watch Johnny Carson late at night. She let me smoke cigarettes and drink Bourbon and gingerale. If someone wanted to go on a road trip, Snookie was the first to get in the car. She was like a travel maniac. So, here's to you, Marlene Jeanette McNeal Stubbs, may your last journey be your best.

For Kate and Marlene I wish you a happy Valentine's Day and God speed on your next big adventures.

Sorrowful News

Kate is gone. She's out of pain now and able to run on all four legs. I know my dad will take good care of her until I join them. I'm going to miss her so much and right now I feel lost without her. I will hold the memories I have of her close to my heart forever. I will always love you, Kate. You were the best of dogs.

Romance Is Not For Wimps!

Romance Is Not For Wimps

Often times people will ask me what I write when they first learn that I am a published writer. My gut reaction is a sudden desire to lie and explain in lofty terms that I write alternative fiction. I want to throw out a lot of baloney about time travel, science fiction, adventure, Western or even experimental dabbling into creative fiction. I could duck the entire issue and act like I just saw someone I know across the room and I must be off to greet them. The last thing I want to tell them is that I’m a romance writer.

I know. I know. I’m a coward. But the minute I tell an enthusiastic person that I’m a romance writer, I have to endure their deflated interest and sudden monotone voice depicting low esteem when they respond with, “Oh. That’s nice.” What the heck? It’s as if my IQ just dropped and my efforts to get that POV right and the hours I agonized working the plot into an exciting revelation meant absolutely nothing—because I write romance.

Some people just don’t get it. Writing about the most tender feelings two people can have for one another and making them find ways to overcome impossible obstacles to have that one person their heart yearns for is an amazing amount of work to get it right and make it lift the heart. Is it nobler to write dark tombs with sad endings than those filled with hope and ending in happiness? Apparently. Is it easier somehow to forge a romance than a murder? In the minds of many, yes.

Well, for myself, I delight in reading romance and I have no desire to write anything else. I enjoy happy endings and stories that make me believe in the impossible. My life is filled with the harsh edges of reality and the sting and bite of everyday existence. When I settle down into bed at night, I like to close my day within the pages of a wonderful romance that allows me to believe that the world really can be a better place.

Now for a little update:

My Golden Retriever, Kate, is still hanging in there. I am amazed, as is the veterinarian, that Kate has managed to make it this far with a diagnosis of bone cancer made on Halloween night. She is getting pain meds that seem to work for the most part and she is getting whatever she wants to eat. Naturally she prefers meat products, eggs, puppy food and peanut butter sandwiches or whatever I'm having except for vegetables (not to her liking). She goes in and out of the house using a special ramp I got her to accommodate her three legged way of being. She's like a moving tripod now refusing to use her left hind leg at all.

Thank God for friends. My good friend, Maureen Tohill, comes to spend hours of time with Kate while I'm at work in the ER 12 hours every Saturday and Sunday. She feeds Kate home made goodies and gives her healing touch treatments along with her wonderful company.

The veterinarian told me last week to prepare myself for the inevitable end and, believe me, I really am trying. For the most part, I deal with things on a one day at a time basis attempting to keep in memory every day I get with Kate. Only once in a while it occurs to me that I am going to lose her and nothing, absolutely nothing I do can keep Kate from dying. In those dark moments I just have to believe that Kate will join my dad in the here-after and that Pop will take good care of her there until I can join them.

Any way, I just wanted to let you know what is going on with my wonderful dog,Kate.

As for my two kitties, Liberty and Acorn, they are doing just fine and happy as little larks.

Until next time, here's sending good thoughts to your corner of the universe.

Sarah

Merry Christmas

Wishing You And Yours A Most Merry Christmas And A New Year Filled With Hope, Happiness And Peace.

All good things to your corner of the universe.

Sarah, Kate, Acorn and Liberty

Buy The Violin And Get A Chance To Win An Ebook Reader

Welcome to the wild and crazy, exhausting preChristmas shopping days. Well, here's a little something-something to gladden and warm your heart--an antiGrinch remedy, if you please. LOL.If you buy my book, THE VIOLIN, from Amira Press you automatically get a chance to win an Ebook Reader from my publisher. In fact, for every book you buy, you get another chance to win and, when you buy 10 books, you get the 11th book free no matter what.

THE VIOLIN

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal (Blurb)

Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death in 1927 within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?

Excerpt:THE VIOLIN at Amira Press by Sarah McNeal

The couple was left alone in the living room. John’s hands seemed to burn into Genevieve’s. She wanted him to stay with her like this forever. Her heart ached a little and she wasn’t sure why.

“Are you really okay? She asked.

“Hell no, I’m not okay. I’m never okay around you.” He smiled charmingly. “Now that you’ve turned into a goddess with the help of my mother, I’m not sure I will ever be okay again,” he said and grinned.

Genevieve jerked her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t think your jokes are all that funny. You scared the life out of me,” she said angrily.

He reached around her and pulled his jacket from the back of the couch. “Come on, Genevieve, let’s get going.” He took her hand back in his firm grip and pulled her along behind him out the front door, off the little porch and across the yard to his motorcycle.

Genevieve skidded to a halt. “I’m not going to ride on that thing.” She felt the knot in her stomach form just looking at the motorcycle. What a dangerous piece of machinery it was.

“Yes you are,” John said determinedly.

“No I’m not.” Genevieve was obstinately determined that she was most certainly not going to get on that death machine. “I could get killed on that thing.” She looked at the Indian motorcycle as if it were a dragon seeking its next meal.From the back yard came a miniature explosion. Matilda’s little shriek cut the air followed by the laughter of Will and Jimmy.

John glanced at Genevieve and laughed lightly. “Well, looks like that cannon you bought Jimmy has gone over big.”

She scrunched her face into a frown not listening to a word he said. “I’m not going to ride on that thing, John.”

John turned to her and spoke in a low voice as if explaining something to a child. “Listen, honey, Sunbury is ten miles or more down the road. You couldn’t even walk the first two miles before those blisters would start to hurt again.”He guided her slowly over to the motorcycle. “Now see, I have this wonderful wheeled horse just to take milady conveniently and, without walking on sore feet I might add, to a wonderful restaurant I know in Sunbury.”He turned her around to face him. “Now we can stand here and argue all our time away on how we’re going to get there but, in the end little miss goddess of mine, you are going to get on this motorcycle if I have to drag you on it and tie you to me.” There was absolute resolution in his voice.

Genevieve knew she couldn’t win. John had to be the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. “Okay,” she relented barely audible, “I’ll do it but I want you to know I’m really scared. You better not get us killed.”

John threw a leg over the saddle of the bike and drew her on to the back where she sat with her legs tucked behind his. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to kill us, not on purpose any way.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Genevieve snapped back sarcastically. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more, riding on the motorcycle or John’s back pressed against her chest and her legs snugly folded next to his.

John reached back, took her hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “All you have to do is hang on tight and lean the way I lean. Got that?”Genevieve was shaking too much to answer so she nodded her head even though she was sure he wasn’t really waiting for her permission. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and fear made her hands tremble.John kicked the starter with his left heel and the engine sputtered into life. It sounded like a chain saw.Genevieve hugged John’s waist in a death grip and laid her face against his back as he drew on his goggles over his eyes. “Genevieve,” he yelled over the roar of the engine, “I have to be able to breathe, honey, not that I don’t love you holding me that tight.” He laughed and the motorcycle lunged forward onto the dirt road.

Genevieve watched as John squeezed the clutch with his left hand and reached down to change the gear with his right hand on the stick gear in front of him.“Aren’t we supposed to have on helmets? There’s a law about that,” Genevieve yelled into his back.

She felt the rumble of his laughter on her cheek.“I don’t think they have a law about that. We’re not going into battle; we’re just taking a ride.” He laughed out loud. “You might want to keep your mouth shut before a bug flies in it,” he shouted and laughed again.The engine whined a few seconds as John changed gears again. The machine hummed as they scattered rocks and dirt in their wake down the country road. The wind blew through his hair and Genevieve’s braid flopped heavily in the wind the bike created.

“I never saw a motorcycle with a stick shift on the body before,” Genevieve called out over the roar of the engine. “Isn’t there some kind of shift thingy on the handlebar?”

“That’s a mighty interesting question seeing how there is no other motorcycle anywhere. Indian is all there is and this is where the gears are.” John was silent a moment than added, “But now that I think about it, it would sure be more convenient if the ‘thingy’ was on the handlebar.”

Genevieve was beginning to loosen her grip a little as she began to grow calm. A little burn of fear still scorched her stomach though. “Does this thing have brakes?” she called out the question.

“You’ll be glad to know there’s two. I got one in my right hand and the other is located here under my right foot. You couldn’t be any safer.” He spoke loudly making his voice rise above the engine noise. “Isn’t this the greatest?” He was obviously enjoying himself.Genevieve wasn’t so sure it was the greatest thing riding wildly down a dirt road on a motorcycle. In her real life, she would never take such a crazy chance. But there was one thing she thought that made this dangerous and impulsive antic worthwhile. She got to hold John close to her until she could hear his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice through his jacket on her cheek. The time she spent with John was worth all the heartache that would come later.

The Violin is available in Print or ebook at the following locations: http://www.amirapress.com/, amazon.com, Fictionwise.com,Bookstrand.com or here on my website. Just click on the buy button which will take you straight to Amira Press.

And here is another cool deal. If you join Amira Press Reader's Group, you get my story, I PROMISE YOU, as a free read. Here is a blurb and excerpt for you.FREE READ Join the Amira Press Yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/amirapress/join) today and get a free read courtesy of Sarah J. McNeal.

I Promise You

Gideon thought he had the perfect life as a musician with a beautiful model as his girlfriend, until he was diagnosed with breast cancer.Ashamed and afraid he may die, Gideon hits bottom when his girlfriend dumps him for a real man.Hope comes in the form of his father’s ghost and a person he has just met. Can he beat the odds and survive? And if he does, can he ever find happiness again?

I PROMISE YOU Excerpt

By Sarah J. McNeal

Publisher: Amira Press

Available as a FREE READ

In a nonstop run of chatter in the “it’s all about me” world of Sylvia, she handed him the iced tea remembering, at least, to put a straw in the glass affording him the ability to drink. The tea was bitter without any sugar in it. He didn’t bother to ask for sugar, content to drink anything that would slake his thirst. Leaning his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes, he allowed her never-ending stream of words to wash over him. He didn’t feel much like talking any way being more absorbed in his own thoughts about his surgery, his therapy and his hope for survival.

Accustomed to Sylvia’s self-centered and relentless chatter, Gideon knew it wasn’t necessary to comment on anything she said. Sylvia was shallow but she was very entertaining in her own way and, oh, so stunningly beautiful. Gideon pushed the button in his hand that would bring him relief.

Maybe it was the morphine causing him to slip into some kind of hallucination or maybe he was just dreaming—or wishing. The room appeared filled with white fog so thick that nothing was visible beyond the bed where he lay. A fragrance drifted on the fog almost like a memory of forest, pungent cedar, rich, leaf-covered earth and sun warmed water.Gideon knew before the form appeared through the fog to stand at the foot of his bed that his father was near.

He closed his eyes against the visage yearning for it to be real and knowing it couldn’t be. His parents had died two years ago in a car accident. But, when he blinked his eyes open once again, his dad was still there a slim, tall man wearing waders and a fishing hat over his thick, silver hair. A narrow fringe of white mustache graced his upper lip as he smiled that lopsided way that Gideon remembered so well.He seemed so real that Gideon felt a lump of suppressed emotions form in his throat and wanted to cry for joy. All he could manage to say in a whisper was, “Pop? Is that you?”

The figure moved closer, sat gently on the side of the bed and took Gideon’s hand. His hand felt warm and solid in Gideon’s grasp. With a voice barely audible, filled with an aching, bitter need to clutch his father to him, Gideon asked, “Did I die? Am I in heaven now?” A tear slid down his cheek, not from sadness at the passing of his life, but with pure, unmitigated joy that his father was with him again.

His father shook his head. “No son. I heard you were in trouble and needed me.” The old man smiled and squeezed his hand the way he’d done a thousand times before. From scraped knees to his first broken heart, his dad had always been there to comfort, love and guide him.In truth, whether this vision of his dad was real or was brought about by the morphine in his veins, Gideon was glad he was there. Never had he needed his father more than he did right now.

“Pop,” Gideon spoke the one watery word like a prayer filled with despair and hope, “Please help me.”

“We’ll get you through this, Gideon.” His father’s image seemed to fade, blending into the chair where he sat.

To get this free read, join our group and email Dahlia at http://us.mc365.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=VMochaXtasi1029@aol.com.

I'll be chatting with you again soon. Stay tuned.Sarah McNealwww.sarahmcneal.comAuthor of THE VIOLIN (Amira Press)THE DARK ISLE (New Concepts Publishing)LAKE OF SORROWS (New Concepts Publishing)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving Every One!!
I'm going to take my dog Kate and spend the day with my sister and my family playing "cut throat" Parcheesi and Chinese Checkers. It's like a family tradition. My personal diet is going to hell for the day but, hey, it's a holiday and calories are free. Ha Ha Ha Well, in my world any way. My sister is making Turkey and Stuffin' Muffins and I'm in charge of mashed potatoes and broccoli. Betsy is bringing rum and coke with snacks and Matthew is bringing desserts and then there is just a raft of other stuff to delve into.
Well, I could blab on and on so I'm going to draw to a halt here and say have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

KATE

Kate is the sweetest dog ever. I got her from the Golden Retriever Rescue Mission when she was nine months old back in 1998. She helped me get through the loss of my Scottie, Mac, not long after her arrival.

Her favorite thing is to greet people at the door with "presents" in her mouth. I don't know why, but Kate likes to stuff her mouth with as many toys as possible. It's like her little game to see how many she can get in there. But she's very willing to share her toys with anyone. Kate is not a scrapper. She's just very loving and friendly. Her day is made when we have company.

I'm used to Kate following me around every where I go. She lays by my chair when I'm watching TV, curls up on her special doggie mattress in the study when I'm writing or reading emails and always lays by my bed every night--and snores.

My girl, Kate, loves to ride in the car with the window down and her head hanging out. I have no idea why that brings her such happiness but there ya go. So, I turn on the heat or the air conditioning depending on the weather for me and let Kate have her window open in the back seat to eat the wind all she wants.

In a year filled with sadness, first my friend, Joyce dying at age 55 and then Grandfather Tree dying after he was hit by lightning--everything pales to the utter devastation of learning yesterday that my beautiful and loving Kate has cancer of the bone.

I thought she had arthritis when she started limping last week and, when my home remedies of glucosamine and baby aspirin didn't work, I took her to the vet yesterday. After X-Rays and blood work, Dr. Heather Myers gave me the awful news that Kate had cancer of the bone and that it may have metastasized to her heart. They could amputate her leg and give her chemo but it won't save Kate's life--only prolong it a few months. I don't see that as an option. The doctor gave me pain pills for Kate and on Monday we'll know if the cancer has spread to her heart.

Kate doesn't know that she has cancer. But she knows that I'm here with her loving her every minute of her day. I plan on spending our last days together the way we've always spent them, going on cars rides, watching TV and loving each other throughout each day. One thing I will change. Kate can eat anything she wants to. She can have all the cheese and hot dogs she wants.

She can spend her last days being as happy and pain free as I can make her and I will bear for her the painful knowledge of her impending death. As humans who love animals it is our duty to see our pets through this life as best we can. They give us so much. Kate has never gotten mad at me. No matter what I do or who I anger, at the end of the day, I come home to the unconditional love of Kate McNeal. I will love her to the very end and even after that.

Dead Foot Walking Costumes

Here are some lovely costumes for Halloween at Amira Press.

Well I've had a lot of fun with the foot costumes. I hope you'll visit me today as I host at Amira Press's reader's loop from 9am to 1pm. I'll be giving away a download of THE VIOLIN to someone at the end.

Until next time...

Don't let the bugs bite--or the vamps--or the things that go bump in the night.

Sarah

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Don't forget to join Amira Press and the authors for our cool Spookathon. There are preizes and free reads so come and join us! http://www.amirapress.com/ Click on the pumpkin to get to all the fun.

Upcoming Events

Carolina Romance Writers are haviing a book signing on November 1st. You might want to meet some wonderful romance authors who live right here in the Carolinas. Here are the details:
Time and Place
Date:
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Time:
4:00pm - 6:00pm
Location:
Borders Books and Music - Northlake Mall
Street:
Northlake Mall Dr
City/Town:
Charlotte, NC


View Map
Description
Come meet your local romance writers at the Carolina Romance Writers Group Signing Featuring Leigh Greenwood, Angela Knight, Eliza Gayle, Sabrina Luna and Debut Author Kalayna Price!

And, if you're up for some fun and free prizes, here is another cool happening. Amira Press is having a membership drive. Just for going to Amira Press and signing up for our readers loop, you get to choose a free read. I have one on there called THE AMBER TOMB, a romantic spook story. There is also a Spookathon coming up where you have a chance at winning a couple baskets filled with terrific goodies. You don't want to miss out on the chance to win one of those. Click onto the link I'm posting then click onto the pumpkin on the homepage. It will take you to the cool events. Here's the link: www.amirapress.com
Ain't Halloween great?
Sarah

My Chinese Sign

Just in case you were searching for the contest icon for Amira Press Christmas Extravaganza, well here it is! Merry Christmas!

Lets101 - Online Dating

My Chinese Sign

Lets101 - Online Dating

In Remembrance of 9/11

Remembering September 11, 2001

Sometimes I forget how it was on that clear warm day on September 11, 2001. I was at work in the ER when word came that the towers had been hit by airplanes in New York City, then that the Pentagon had been hit followed by news that a plane had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania. People were dying and families were weeping for their lost loves. The ER went on lock down as we waited for what would come next. We called our loved ones and talked to them just in case we forgot to tell them how much we loved them and might not get the chance again. We wept and we prayed.

In the days that followed, images of the towers collapsing, people searching for their families and friends hoping they were still alive and weeping, so much weeping played out on the news. Day after day, firemen and policemen searched relentlessly hoping to find someone alive and emergency personnel waiting in the emergency rooms for recovered victims that would never come.

I shall never forget the members of congress who gathered on the steps of the Capital Building and spontaneously sang America The Beautiful or the senator who wept unabashed during the memorial service in Washington, D.C.

We hear the stories of bravery that occurred during this tragic episode in American history and we honor them and those that we have lost. Years later, we remember that day and we pray that maybe some day we will feel free and secure from harm and that there's a chance we can find peace once again.

Grandfather Tree And An Old Friend

Sometimes life just brings sadness with it. Joyce Henderson was a friend and a coworker of mine who died at age 55. She was one of the nurses I've worked with for over twenty years. We worked in Coronary Care together back in the '80's and later we worked together in the ER. She had just retired and was going to go to her 10 acre plot of land in Florida where she was going to build a house and enjoy boating and nature. Her dream never happened.

It made those of us who remain, consider what we are doing with our lives. Are we going to live to see our dreams come true? I've wanted to go to Australia all my life. First one thing and then another got in my way, but come my retirement from nursing in April 2009, it's off to Australia I go. I hope my friends can come along, too. I've met many of the goals I had set for myself but I still have some left. I'm going to work on those starting now.

And now, a word about Grandfather Tree. When I bought my house about 15 years ago, I selected it mostly because of the huge white oak that sat vigilantly over it. There was something about that ancient oak tree that gave me good, positive vibes. A year and a half ago, he was struck by lightning. In an attempt to save him, I had an arborist come and cut away the damaged limbs. Half of Grandfather Tree was cut away. He seemed sad somehow. Spring came and all seemed well with the remaining limbs then the draught took hold. Grandfather Tree was too damaged to survive the onslaught of the draught. As time passed, limb by limb, he began to succumb. Last week the last of his limbs died and with his death, I feel the spirit of my house has gone with him.

I mourn Grandfather Tree and the passing of my friend. I can only hope that all spirits continue some how if only in those that remember them. So that's where I shall keep the spirits of Grandfather Tree and Joyce Henderson, here in my heart.

Farewell old friends.

Sarah