Here are a couple of links should you be interested in Linda Windsor's latest novel.
Click on Linda to visit her website or the title to visit Amazon and get loads of info.
Linda Windsor
Wedding Belle Blues
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Serials and Scenarios - Island Inferno
Visit the Island Inferno page for more information by clicking on the cover.
You can check out Chuck by clicking on his name.
My Review:
This is a true blend of a character/relationship driven story and a plot powered novel. Holton's diverse and fascinating experiences add intriguing depth to a plot that involves so many characters it could get out of control. But Holton manages to keep things moving along and buttoned down.
I did get lost in some of the jargon, but tool/technology lovers should dig the references to guns, spy equipment, explosives and some other things that went way over my head.
Into this tight mix, Holton, weaves a fair amount of spiritual undertones and truths.
The jungle atmosphere and a legend added intensity to the plot. I appreciated Holton's clarity and strength with point of view. He stayed within the same character's head throughout each scene, making the read much more enjoyable for me.
Action lovers are likely to devour "Island", suspense fans should find much to like, too.
Happy 4th and have a good weekend.
Thanks, Chuck, and all the service men and women who have sacrificed on behalf of the United States of America to secure, protect and win our freedom.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Scribble and Scrambles - The Cat's Meow
It all started when we shaved the cat.
The last few weeks have contained bizarre and unexpected happenings.
I mentioned the excessive raccoon visitations last week…now there have been five more. All have been captured humanely and set free in much more welcoming environments. However, one or more of them apparently invited friends and relatives to our garbage can party and we are beginning to wonder if it will ever end.
Now that we are slightly paranoid, we’ve begun looking into this insane invasion and in the process have uncovered other issues that are making our lives less than serene. At first we thought the advent of financial tremors and leaking air conditioners might have something to do with Fabio. Could he be “waking up” at night and pranking us or acting out over being treated as just a two-dimensional object?
But no, the financial tremor began earlier. The relational maelstroms are new, but could Fabio have anything to do with them? I think not. Unless he is somehow throwing his voice. Hmmm. I’ll make sure to have the next serious conversation far, far away from Fabio, just in case.
The only other common denominator is the cat. Normally, people don’t shave cats. There are several reasons for this. Most of them can draw blood in a New York second.
However, Blackie (the GRAY) cat is elderly and fluffy. This is not a great combination when it comes to grooming aesthetics. Not at all. Taking pity upon her we had a family “shave the cat” night and liberated her from her unruly hair. Not completely mind you. She was left full-fur faced, full plume tailed and fluffy little slippers.
I’ll admit that she hated the process, just call me stumpy. But the after effects, though less than attractive, have been an improvement. She seems to like her sleek new look. Really.
But maybe not. Maybe the recent string of upheavals are the result of a cat curse.
You might want to check into that should you have a hankering to buzz cut a feline.
The last few weeks have contained bizarre and unexpected happenings.
I mentioned the excessive raccoon visitations last week…now there have been five more. All have been captured humanely and set free in much more welcoming environments. However, one or more of them apparently invited friends and relatives to our garbage can party and we are beginning to wonder if it will ever end.
Now that we are slightly paranoid, we’ve begun looking into this insane invasion and in the process have uncovered other issues that are making our lives less than serene. At first we thought the advent of financial tremors and leaking air conditioners might have something to do with Fabio. Could he be “waking up” at night and pranking us or acting out over being treated as just a two-dimensional object?
But no, the financial tremor began earlier. The relational maelstroms are new, but could Fabio have anything to do with them? I think not. Unless he is somehow throwing his voice. Hmmm. I’ll make sure to have the next serious conversation far, far away from Fabio, just in case.
The only other common denominator is the cat. Normally, people don’t shave cats. There are several reasons for this. Most of them can draw blood in a New York second.
However, Blackie (the GRAY) cat is elderly and fluffy. This is not a great combination when it comes to grooming aesthetics. Not at all. Taking pity upon her we had a family “shave the cat” night and liberated her from her unruly hair. Not completely mind you. She was left full-fur faced, full plume tailed and fluffy little slippers.
I’ll admit that she hated the process, just call me stumpy. But the after effects, though less than attractive, have been an improvement. She seems to like her sleek new look. Really.
But maybe not. Maybe the recent string of upheavals are the result of a cat curse.
You might want to check into that should you have a hankering to buzz cut a feline.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Scribbles and Scrambles - Pat Cries Fowl
Pat’s fowl history extends beyond Sonny the parrot.
It involves strange roosters in obscure junk yards.
Pat needed a car part. Our town boasted a large junk yard, so the family piled into the good automobile to run for the part for the temperamental car.
Not sure why this was a family outing. Maybe because we were headed out toward “the country” and dad wanted us to see some wildlife. Or maybe he wanted company. Or just someone take out mechanically induced frustration on and he figured the children's legs would be the equivalent of a stress ball. There was a guaranteed opportunity for leg grabbing since the backseat would boast of at least one fight because we’d be in the car for over five minutes.
Regardless of the reason we were along – we became witnesses to an event we wouldn’t have believed if we didn’t see it unfold.
Pat left us all in the car while he disappeared behind the dilapidated fence. A quaint farm house sat to the left of the junk yard. We watched a woman as she weeded until she went back inside. None of us heard a barking junk yard dog, so we assumed Pat was safe. Eventually the tension around my mother's eyes faded and we relaxed into the assumption that this was indeed just a simple errand on a beautiful day.
As soon as I had that thought I spied Pat rounding the corner headed back to the car. As he drew closer to the car he started dancing a little jig. Wow, he must’ve gotten a great deal on that part.
Mom leaned forward and squinted. “What is he doing?”
So maybe it wasn’t the “I got a bargain dance.” Pat started laughing, but his hoots and hollers were interrupted with strange muttering and threats.
That’s when we noticed the rooster. A large white junk yard rooster attacked Pat’s legs with beak, spurs and enthusiasm. Pat spent his trip back to the car avoiding, dancing, kicking and laughing. Finally, he reached the car, opened the door and slid in, kicking all the while.
The woman from the farmhouse opened her door. “Henry!” The rooster took off, headed back to his house clucking in victory.
It involves strange roosters in obscure junk yards.
Pat needed a car part. Our town boasted a large junk yard, so the family piled into the good automobile to run for the part for the temperamental car.
Not sure why this was a family outing. Maybe because we were headed out toward “the country” and dad wanted us to see some wildlife. Or maybe he wanted company. Or just someone take out mechanically induced frustration on and he figured the children's legs would be the equivalent of a stress ball. There was a guaranteed opportunity for leg grabbing since the backseat would boast of at least one fight because we’d be in the car for over five minutes.
Regardless of the reason we were along – we became witnesses to an event we wouldn’t have believed if we didn’t see it unfold.
Pat left us all in the car while he disappeared behind the dilapidated fence. A quaint farm house sat to the left of the junk yard. We watched a woman as she weeded until she went back inside. None of us heard a barking junk yard dog, so we assumed Pat was safe. Eventually the tension around my mother's eyes faded and we relaxed into the assumption that this was indeed just a simple errand on a beautiful day.
As soon as I had that thought I spied Pat rounding the corner headed back to the car. As he drew closer to the car he started dancing a little jig. Wow, he must’ve gotten a great deal on that part.
Mom leaned forward and squinted. “What is he doing?”
So maybe it wasn’t the “I got a bargain dance.” Pat started laughing, but his hoots and hollers were interrupted with strange muttering and threats.
That’s when we noticed the rooster. A large white junk yard rooster attacked Pat’s legs with beak, spurs and enthusiasm. Pat spent his trip back to the car avoiding, dancing, kicking and laughing. Finally, he reached the car, opened the door and slid in, kicking all the while.
The woman from the farmhouse opened her door. “Henry!” The rooster took off, headed back to his house clucking in victory.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Not PETA Approved
My husband, Rob, likes to hunt. I don't understand this, but I don't really want to either. So we agree to disagree on this whole issue.
I create edible meals out of his "catches" and then I fix myself a bowl of Cheerios sans sugar. Two of our children eat game, one does not.
This week I created deer meatloaf and grilled deer steak.
Hunters call this venison.
I no longer call it fillet of Bambi's mother, and he no longer begs me to take just a tiny bite. Yes, good marriages are made of compromises such as this.
In addition to his deer-filled week, Rob's had a little hunting fun. Oh, it's not officially hunting season in Iowa. However, we have had some late night garbage can visitors, and Rob, being the very sensitive husband that he is, set a live trap. This is the kind that you bait, the creature enters and is unhurt by the shutting of the cage door. Then all good, responsible hunters drive the animal out of the city limits and set it free.
We are going on our third raccoon. Never, in the twelve years we've lived here have this problem.
No, it's not the same raccoon who returns "Homeward Bound" style.
The first one growled and "smiled" rather viciously whenever Rob neared the cage. The second lounged on it's back and poked and read a novel. When Rob opened the cage the raccoon had decided he kind of liked the lovely little box. I think he might be of the RVing genus.
Have a great weekend.
I create edible meals out of his "catches" and then I fix myself a bowl of Cheerios sans sugar. Two of our children eat game, one does not.
This week I created deer meatloaf and grilled deer steak.
Hunters call this venison.
I no longer call it fillet of Bambi's mother, and he no longer begs me to take just a tiny bite. Yes, good marriages are made of compromises such as this.
In addition to his deer-filled week, Rob's had a little hunting fun. Oh, it's not officially hunting season in Iowa. However, we have had some late night garbage can visitors, and Rob, being the very sensitive husband that he is, set a live trap. This is the kind that you bait, the creature enters and is unhurt by the shutting of the cage door. Then all good, responsible hunters drive the animal out of the city limits and set it free.
We are going on our third raccoon. Never, in the twelve years we've lived here have this problem.
No, it's not the same raccoon who returns "Homeward Bound" style.
The first one growled and "smiled" rather viciously whenever Rob neared the cage. The second lounged on it's back and poked and read a novel. When Rob opened the cage the raccoon had decided he kind of liked the lovely little box. I think he might be of the RVing genus.
Have a great weekend.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Serials and Scenarios - Jerome Teel's ~ The Divine Appointment
Click on the picture to see more about the Divine AppointmentTuesday, June 26, 2007
Scribbles and Scrambles - Oh Fabio-ulous
Sometimes situations get out of hand. Simple little oops and comments get blown into gigantic proportions and then they are committed to memories of those who like to remind you of the time…
A simple typo can turn a professional sounding typed minutes into… well…inappropriately amusing. Such as was just pointed out to me – the keeper and typer of the minutes -- after I dispensed the copies to the proper parties.
This underscores the importance of proofreading and editing because spell check doesn’t have issues with those of us who add another “s” to as.
One Christmas during our Christmas celebration at church a young lady read an engaging story. She did a great job until she misread shiny axes. Oh yes. Every Christmas since, some twisted individual has to mention shiny a - - es.
Another such situation arrived on my doorstep last Wednesday.
A couple of years ago I wanted to cheer someone up. So I wrote a little story.
The story required a bronzed and muscled hero to come to the aid of a diminished damsel. What does one call a hero in a humorized version of a white knight tale? Why, Fabio, of course. I suppose this name is copyrighted but at the time this little ha-ha moment wasn’t for mass consumption, just for a friend who needed chocolate and had already gone through all she had in the house. E-mail was her only hope of sanity. I had to work fast.
Since then, said friend asks for a Fabio installment whenever disaster strikes. She’s a writer. Can you imagine how often she faces serious rejection? Yeah. Our story is ten plus chapters and gets pretty complex at times. We’ve covered conferences, jealousy, Raoul the agent, rejection, rejection and rejection.
Said friend came to visit Wednesday. We heard a knock on the door and went to answer it. There, on the porch, a life-size, shirtless, smiled a sweaty cardboard Fabio in all his glory. A chorus of giggles came from the side of the house.
What would you do with a life-size sweaty Fabio?
He’s been on a few field trips this week.
Though not sturdy enough to hold clothes he does come in handy while beading necklaces and bracelets. We’ve christened a new family member Fabio Jr or Mini-Fabio. Twice he has startled a few half-asleep visitors. But now he just stands guard.
We do have a softball game tomorrow night. He’d probably make a great umpire.
A simple typo can turn a professional sounding typed minutes into… well…inappropriately amusing. Such as was just pointed out to me – the keeper and typer of the minutes -- after I dispensed the copies to the proper parties.
This underscores the importance of proofreading and editing because spell check doesn’t have issues with those of us who add another “s” to as.
One Christmas during our Christmas celebration at church a young lady read an engaging story. She did a great job until she misread shiny axes. Oh yes. Every Christmas since, some twisted individual has to mention shiny a - - es.
Another such situation arrived on my doorstep last Wednesday.
A couple of years ago I wanted to cheer someone up. So I wrote a little story.
The story required a bronzed and muscled hero to come to the aid of a diminished damsel. What does one call a hero in a humorized version of a white knight tale? Why, Fabio, of course. I suppose this name is copyrighted but at the time this little ha-ha moment wasn’t for mass consumption, just for a friend who needed chocolate and had already gone through all she had in the house. E-mail was her only hope of sanity. I had to work fast.
Since then, said friend asks for a Fabio installment whenever disaster strikes. She’s a writer. Can you imagine how often she faces serious rejection? Yeah. Our story is ten plus chapters and gets pretty complex at times. We’ve covered conferences, jealousy, Raoul the agent, rejection, rejection and rejection.
Said friend came to visit Wednesday. We heard a knock on the door and went to answer it. There, on the porch, a life-size, shirtless, smiled a sweaty cardboard Fabio in all his glory. A chorus of giggles came from the side of the house.
What would you do with a life-size sweaty Fabio?
He’s been on a few field trips this week.
Though not sturdy enough to hold clothes he does come in handy while beading necklaces and bracelets. We’ve christened a new family member Fabio Jr or Mini-Fabio. Twice he has startled a few half-asleep visitors. But now he just stands guard.
We do have a softball game tomorrow night. He’d probably make a great umpire.
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