Tag Archives: travel

Golden-Haired, Most Fair, Prince Rod of Lachlan by Sherrie Hansen

If Prince Rod of Lachlan sounds like something straight from the pages of a fairy tale, you’re right.

Golden Rod painting

When Katelyn O’Neal, a reluctant “princess” from Minnesota, inherits a castle from a great uncle she met only once, she views the whole ordeal as a huge bother, except that selling the castle to a rich developer will pay for a very expensive, experimental cancer treatment for her 12 year old niece, Kacie.

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Rod MacKenzie, the illegitimate but rightful heir to Lachlan, has used his own time and money to take care of the castle and its magnificent gardens for years – despite the fact that his grandfather wrote him out of his will. Rod would love to live happily ever after in the land of his ancestors even though he’s always known it was an impossibility.

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Add Laird Valan MacKenzie and the lovely Lady Rosemary, a pair of 500 year old ghosts who are bound to the castle by age-old curses, and would do anything to escape the place, and you have GOLDEN ROD, a two-week romp through a lifetime of legends that turns everything upside down.

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Lachlan – a centuries old castle on Loch Carron in Scotland. Kacie – a twelve year old girl whose dying wish is to see it. Laird Valan and Lady Rosemary – 500 year old ghosts who desperately want to escape it. Golden-Haired, Most Fair, Prince Rod MacKenzie – the rightful heir who loves Lachlan and its gardens even though he will never inherit.  Katelyn O’Neal – the legal heir who unwitting sold the castle to a low life scum at a high price.

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GOLDEN ROD, a Wildflowers of Scotland novel by Sherrie Hansen – coming from Indigo Sea Press in June 2017.

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Being Grateful for Things I’ve Always Taken for Granted by Sherrie Hansen

Those who are close to me know that I’m approaching a milestone birthday. (I’ll let you guess which one.) In some ways, I don’t think it will make a difference in the way I lead my life, or how I feel about things. In other ways, it looms over my daily walk with great significance.

One thing that I’ve noticed about getting older is that I appreciate a lot of things I’ve previously taken for granted… simple things like a good night’s sleep. I am immensely grateful for those few mornings when I sleep peacefully through the night and wake up slowly and languorously rather than being rudely awakened by a cramp in my leg. Life’s simple pleasures.

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As I get to an age where many of my friends have only one or no parents still living, I am daily reminded how blessed I am to have both of my parents still active in my life. I’m grateful for all of the things my parents have done for me, taught me, and given me, and that I have people in my life who love me, just as I am.

I’m thankful to have been raised with a hard work ethic, that I was not brought up to feel entitled, but with the knowledge that if I worked hard. I could earn the things I wanted and have the freedom to do what I wished. Those principals have shaped my life, and because of that, I have been very blessed.

I also find that I spend far more time being grateful for what I have and less time lusting after what I don’t have. It’s the realization that I have enough or even plenty of what I need, and that if I don’t need something, I should find someone who does.

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I’m privileged to have owned and operated my own business for 25 years, and to have served my wonderful customers, and participated in their lives, their special occasions, and the hard times they’ve gone through.

I’m increasingly thankful for my good health, even as it daily worsens, even as the definition of good has to be continuously downgraded.

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I’m grateful for a soft mattress, a sweet husband, nieces and nephews who make me smile and do me proud.

I’m grateful to have been able to see so much of the world, to have had the luxury to enjoy beautiful landscapes and picturesque places in so many countries.  I’m thankful to have been given the gift of an artist’s eye to capture that beauty in photographs, to appreciate art and beauty.

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I am grateful to have been given second chances, and that when I’ve made mistakes, I’ve had the opportunity to try again and again, until I’ve gotten it right, or even made amends.

I am thankful for the few, true blue friends who have stuck with me for a lifetime, and not just a season.

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I’m grateful for a Savior who forgives me over and over again, who loves me unconditionally.

I’m thankful that I have the right, the honor, and the skill to express myself.  I’m grateful for every single person who admires my art, listens to me speak, or reads what I’ve written and respects me enough to take the time to let me share a little bit of myself.

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Getting older may not be the most fun thing in the world, but it comes with its perks – one of which is that every so often you have time to sit back and count your blessings.

So, thank YOU – because I don’t take you for granted either.

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Vacation Reading by Sheila Deeth

I started reading The Girl On The Train on a train

On vacation near London, I started reading The Girl On The Train at a railway station.

A London bookstore is surely the perfect location to start Mr Penumbra's 24-hour Book Store

This bookstore, with its horizontal as well as vertical displays, was the absolutely perfect location for enjoying Mr Penumbra’s 24-hour Book Store

These dogs surely dared to dream while I read The Dog Who Dared To Dream

Then I followed some happily dreaming dogs while exploring The Dog Who Dared To Dream.

Surely punting on the Cam is timeless ande English enough to inspire reading The Eyre Affair

And punting on the Cam – a timelessly English pursuit – inspired me to read The Eyre Affair

A wedding goblet accompanies my reading The Daylight Marriage

A wedding goblet in the Victoria and Albert accompanied my enjoyment of The Daylight Marriage.

Then it's off to enjoy the play of the book, The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time

Then off we went to watch the play of the book, The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time, at the Gielgud Theatre.

Meanwhile my mum enjoyed Infinite Sum, hot off the press from Indigo Sea

Meanwhile my mum enjoyed Infinite Sum, hot off the press, freshly published by Indigo Sea.

And now I'm home, it's time for those final edits on Subtraction!

And now I’m home. It must be time for those final edits on Subtraction!

Sheila Deeth is the author of the Mathemafiction novels, published by Indigo Sea Press. Find Divide by Zero and Infinite Sum online and where good books are sold. Then watch out for Subtraction, coming soon!

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When in Rome…

 

Twenty-seven years ago, Steve and I did a whirlwind tour of several countries of Europe in a little rented Fiat Uno over a period of 19 days. It was enough to give us a taste of several countries, but not a lot of time to do an in-depth exploration. Now, we’ve celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and two weeks ago, we decided to do it up in style. We booked a week-long vacation in Rome.

The first day of travel was long, involving three flights from Quebec City to Montreal to Toronto to Rome, touching down at 9:45 a.m. at Leonardo Di Vinci airport. But, it was worth the effort.

We checked into our hotel and immediately set out to explore some of the neighborhood and grab some lunch (pizza and calzone, of course). After a short siesta at the hotel, we decided to go for a little walk. We eventually found ourselves in the heart of Ancient Rome. Putting aside any serious exploration because of a scheduled tour the next morning, we walked to the top of the Museo del Palazzo Venizia. Unfortunately, I didn’t take my camera for our ‘little’ walk. The view was wonderful.

We made our way back, showered, changed, and went in search of a good Italian restaurant – not hard to find. We dined on bruschetta, cheese, pasta, and wine. Oh, my goodness.

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Today, we hit the road (or rather, the Metro) early and went to join a tour group for a visit to perhaps one of the best known structures on the planet -The Colosseum. It was a fascinating tour, followed by an equally fascinating visit to the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill.  It was hard to imagine that we were walking on the same paths as people 2000 years earlier. As we were visiting the ruins of an ancient palace, we were treated to the sound of Bruce Springsteen preparing for a concert tonight at the Circus Maximus, the first and biggest arena created in the 6th century BC. Talk about a mix of the old and the new!

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This afternoon, wandering around on our own, we happened upon the most beautiful cemetery I have ever seen, containing the remains of people from all corners of the world, including Percy Shelley and John Keats, the famous English poets and writers.

Now, we are once again preparing to go out and indulge in two of the things which Italian have definitely mastered, food and wine. As Carly Simon would say, ‘Nobody does it better’.

In a few days, I plan to be back again with a few more pictures. We have only started. You can check it out at my blog site www.ajackmccarthy.com.

 

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Seeing the World in Blue and White by Sherrie Hansen

I’ve been hearing Scottish accents in my head for over a decade, and now, after returning from my second trip to Bonnie Scotland, my mind’s eye is just as steeped in images of the highlands and islands I’ve been writing about.

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Our trip was a flurry of wildflowers and walled gardens, castles and keeps, and lochs and legends. My mind is whirling with the characters and construct of a new story, ancient ghosts and curses, and modern day longings and desires set to clash like pitchforks and swords at Culloden.

B&W Flag Castle  B&W Blair Atholl

One of my characters is the “rightful” heir of a castle and as fascinated and enamored of Scotland as I am, the other is there only because she could find no other way to wiggle out of her duties as the legal heir of a castle she cares nothing about.

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Even more exciting is the sense of déjà vu I feel about the Wildflowers of Scotland books I’ve already written.

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As I spotted each of the wildflowers I’ve featured in Thistle Down, Wild Rose, Blue Belle, Shy Violet, and Sweet William, and the castles and kirks that provide a backdrop for each of the stories, the characters have come to life for me all over again.

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One of the highlights of the trip was the day I left a copy of Shy Violet with a random staff member at Eilean Donan’s Castle Café, where many scenes in the book take place. A few days later, on our way back from the Isle of Skye, we stopped once more to eat lunch. The recipient pulled me aside, and in her delightful Scottish accent, said “I’ve begun to read yer book, and I’m loving it! Ye’re a very good author, and I thank ye so much.”

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The whole time we were at Eilean Donan Castle, I kept catching glimpse of people who looked like Nathan or Violet.

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William and Lyndsie, the stars of Sweet William, felt very close to me when we were on Skye – walking around the mysterious Fairy Glen at Uig, watching the cows graze on Claigon Coral Beach near Dunvegan and dipping a toe in the Fairy Pools at Glenbrittle. Because I know what happens to William while he’s on Skye, I had a deep, sense of foreboding until we were on our way home, and I knew everything was okay.

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There’s a magical connection between Scotland and me. I’m a Blue Belle, and always will be. (For those of you who don’t know me, I have a B&B and Tea House called the Blue Belle Inn.)

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Loving the blue and white Saltire of Scotland is a natural extension of my love of blue.

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If you’ve yet to fall in love with Scotland, I hope you’ll pick up a copy of one of my Wildflowers of Scotland novels and see if the highlands and islands of Scotland resonate with you like they do me.

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Age old castles and blue-watered bays,

White sandy beaches and quaint cottage stays.

A rainbow of colors and chocolates, hand-dipped,

A valley of bluebells and sheep, freshly clipped.

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Legends galore, buried treasure, and more…

In the Wildflowers of Scotland novels, that’s what’s in store.

Twenty-four years ago, Sherrie Hansen Decker rescued a dilapidated Victorian house from the bulldozer’s grips and turned it into a B&B and tea house, the Blue Belle Inn. Sherrie and her husband, Mark, who is a pastor, live in 2 different houses, 85 miles apart. Sherrie writes murder mysteries and novels whenever she’s not working at her B&B – or trying to be a good pastor’s wife. Her contemporary romantic suspense novels include Night and Day, Love Notes, and Thistle Down, Wild Rose, Blue Belle, Shy Violet and Sweet William, her Wildflowers of Scotland novels.

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You can see what’s she’s up to at: 

https://www.facebook.com/BlueBelleInn

 http://sherriehansen.wordpress.com/

http://www.BlueBelleInn.com or www.BlueBelleBooks.com

https://twitter.com/SherrieHansen

https://www.pinterest.com/sherriebluebell/

Sherrie’s new release is Sweet William.

He’s a real sweetheart. She’s a wee bit tart. When Minnesota farm boy, William McKnight, and sassy Scot, Lyndsie Morris, are forced to work together in the kitchen of Rabbit Hill Lodge, the atmosphere is as charged as an episode of Chopped. Will someone get cut, or will they find a recipe that works? Things just start to get spicy when an angry bull butts his way into the picture, and Lyndsie has to decide if she loves William more than everyone and everything she holds dear.

Sweet William Front Cover

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My Unbucket List, by Carole Howard

In my last post (Time Travel), I was just about to leave for a trip and said I’d write about it next time.

Here it is, next time. Thing is, though, let’s face it: Sometimes reading about someone else’s trip – even one that was wonderful, as this one was – can be boring. So I’m going to write about something else. You’re welcome.

But first, to fulfill my commitment: First a week in a house in the beautiful countryside in southern Italy with good friends. Then an overnight ferry to Dubrovnik. Then five days on a catamaran visiting various Croatian islands with people who had been strangers but are no longer. Finally, two days in historic beautiful Dubrovnik.

Now, onto something I realized on the trip, something about myself, not about Italy or Croatia.

I’m not saying anything you don’t already know when I point out that we change in a whole lot of ways as we get older. Some changes are unwelcome.  Can’t run as fast.  Higher blood pressure.  And then there’s that memory thing. But some are quite welcome, indeed: Things that used to bother us, don’t.  We don’t spend time doing things or being with people we don’t want to.

Something else that’s changed for me is the way my husband and I travel.  And I didn’t realize it until this trip.

Back in the day, we wanted to see the sights when we traveled. Made a list of those sights. Checked them off. Or we visited places where we wanted to absorb and understand the culture. Serious. Intellectual. There were a few hiking and biking trips thrown in, but even those included trails we just had to take, restaurants we had to eat at.

I don’t regret any of it. But now our traveling is less about things we just have to do than about enjoying whatever we do. And it’s no longer necessarily about going someplace new (though my vanity did enjoy adding Croatia to my longish list of the countries I’ve visited).  It definitely includes places we’re very familiar with. If anything, there’s an even stronger pull to go back to the old haunts. (“We’ll always have Paris.”)

The way I see it now is that any place I go is someplace I wouldn’t otherwise have gotten to. It’s serendipity and it’s lovely. It’s a smorgasbord and you take a little of this and a little of that.  Less urgent, more forgiving.

It might sound like we’re jaded, but I that’s not it. It’s more a realization that we’re not going to be able to visit everything, so the point is to take pleasure in whatever we wind up doing. It’s the opposite of a bucket list.  It’s acceptance.

Frankly, I can’t remember the names of the Croatian islands we visited, and certainly don’t remember which was which. And that’s just fine with me: I enjoyed them all, both in the moment and now.

For me, that’s now definitely more than enough.

What about you?  What’s your preferred travel style?

*    *    *

Carole Howard is the author of Deadly Adagio.

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Scotland Revisted by Sherrie Hansen

I will be in Scotland by the time you read this, perhaps on the Isle of Arran, touring Brodick Castle or walking amongst the rhododendrons in the walled garden. Perhaps I’ll be checking out of Lilybank Guest House, or on the ferry, headed to Craig Villa Guest House, near Loch Awe and St. Conan’s Kirk. I was last in Scotland nine years ago, and have been longing to return for at least five. Thistle Down, Wild Rose, Blue Belle, Shy Violet and Sweet William have kept images of picturesque kirks and castles, hairy coo, grazing sheep, colorful villages, white sand beaches, stone cottages and heather-covered hills fresh in my mind, but I think the need to be there in person, experiencing it firsthand, is born of a more ancient connection.

Scotland - sheep

Mark and I recently signed up for Ancestry.com and  discovered that my DNA is 43% Great Britain, and only 20% Scandinavian, a slight surprise since I’ve always thought I was half Danish. (There’s also Western and Eastern European mixed in from my Bohemian and German great-grandparents, and a dash of Italian – where that came from, I have no idea.)

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Although my Mom’s family, the Lightlys, were from England, my grandma and now mother have long told me about a supposed Scottish great-great grandmother. My English ancestors lived in the north part of Lincolnshire, near a village called Scotton.  My family tree is leafed with names like Scullin, Maltby, Harrison, and Mcintyre, and in my searches of the generations, I just found a reference to the Shetland Islands. Scotland in my blood. I feel it when I hear the bagpipes, the drums, or a Scottish accent. I feel it when I see a parade of men in kilts marching down the field, when I look out over the sheep grazing, when I see fields of purple heather in the highlands.

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Researching my novels (and watching Outlander – my guilty pleasure) has only fueled my passion for kilts, castles, highlanders, and all things Scottish. I’ve always known I was from hardy stock with a history of eking out a living in a part of the country that’s sometimes brutally cold and harsh. I love the sea, and rocks, and find a great affinity in the creative, yet no-nonsense foods, cottage décor, and crafts of Scotland. I love that the colorful wildflowers and woven plaids of the highlands are such a contrast to the gray and brown stone cottages lining the valleys and lochs. There is something primal and instinctual that binds me to the Scots.

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I have no idea if a new book will be born of this journey to the motherland. I’ve labeled Sweet William (coming soon from Indigo Sea Press) as the last of my Wildflowers of Scotland novels, but I named Violet’s baby Heather, leaving the door open for a look-ahead novel some two decades down the road. And there’s always Red Jasmine, Blue-eyed Mary, Cherry Primrose, Bee (Bea) Orchid, Golden Rod, Lily of the Valley, Seaside Daisy, Mountain Laurel, and other names I can use if I change my mind.

Sweet William

My main goal is just to relax and enjoy Scotland’s magnificent scenery and history. Everyone keeps telling my husband and me to travel while we can, so we plan to keep returning to Europe as long as we’re able – hopefully every year.

Scotland Lighthouse

There’s something to be said for getting out of the country, for going so far away that you can’t be easily found. Years ago, when I lived in Germany, my mom and dad came to visit me, and I learned this very important lesson. When I was little, our family went to Florida, Colorado, and northern Minnesota into Canada. Our trips were fun while they lasted, but on all these adventures, my Dad was still close enough to home that he was a little tense and consumed with wondering what was going on at home. A few times, after hearing the weather, or the news, or the crop reports, 5 or 6 days into a 8-10 day vacation, he would get worried or frustrated and utter the dreaded words, “Get in the car. We’re going home.”

When he and Mom arrived in Germany, with expensive tickets and a locked in return date, he had no choice but to relax and enjoy himself. This was before the days of email, Skype, texting with international minutes, or cheap long distance. Dad had no idea what was happening on the farm, and even if he had known, there was absolutely nothing he could have done about it.

Baldners Dad

I saw a completely different side of my Dad on that trip. His sense of humor shone – he laughed and smiled and chatted with strangers and truly relaxed. It was amazing. He was like a new person.

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The same kind of magical transformation occurs between me and my husband when we travel. We get to know each other all over again. We rediscover ourselves when we forget the stresses of being a frustrated business owner and a busy pastor. We set aside the issues we’re preoccupied with and reconnect. Our tired brains and downtrodden psyches rejuvenate. Our bodies start to thrive again.

Scotland Bagpipes castle

I hope you’ll come along on our journey. You can follow me on Facebook or Instagram to see my photos, or wait for my next installment at Indigo Sea’s blog. Sweet William should be ready to release just about the time I return from Scotland. I’ll do my best to bring it to life for you in the meantime.

Age old castles and blue-watered bays,White sandy beaches and quaint cottage stays.A rainbow of colors and chocolates, hand-dipped,A valley of bluebells and sheep, freshly clipped. Legends galore, buried treasure, and

Bon voyage!

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Twenty-five years ago, Sherrie rescued a dilapidated Victorian house in northern Iowa from the bulldozer’s grips and turned it into a bed and breakfast and tea house, the Blue Belle Inn.  After 12 years of writing romance novels, Sherrie met and married her real-life hero, Mark Decker, a pastor. They now split their time between 2 different houses, 85 miles apart, and Sherrie writes on the run whenever she has a spare minute. Sherrie enjoys playing the piano, photography, traveling, and going on weekly adventures with her nieces and nephew. “Sweet William”, Sherrie’s ninth book and the last of her Wildflowers of Scotland novels, is coming soon from Indigo Sea Press. You can find more information about Sherrie Hansen here:

WEBSITE  http://BlueBelleBooks.com  or http://BlueBelleInn.com

BLOG  https://sherriehansen.wordpress.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/SherrieHansen

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/SherrieHansenAuthor

Goodreads  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2870454.Sherrie_Hansen

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/sherriehansen

Pinterest  https://www.pinterest.com/sherriebluebell/

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To Know Home, Leave Home, by Carole Howard

Sometimes people ask me why I travel so much — or used to travel so much. Certainly, on a beautiful hopeful spring day like today, with my magnolia advertising its splendor to come, I wonder myself. Then I remember that time at JFK airport:

The Customs agent looked at our form, then at us, then at our two trolleys piled high with luggage, and back up at us.

“How long have you been gone?” he asked.

Uh-oh. This wasn’t going to be one of those routine passages. We were a little nervous about the plentiful cheese in one of our bags. We knew it was legal to bring it in – even declared it on our Customs form – but we didn’t know if this agent knew, too.

“Five months.” I didn’t say “sir” but I would have if I’d thought it would help.

“Did you have a good time?”

A surprising question. And was he smiling? “It was great.”

He grinned. “Welcome home.”

 

I knew my delight was disproportionate to those two little words – the “home” as important as the “welcome.” This man was a stranger, and all I knew about him was that he was American, so we were connected not just by the dirt we stood on but by the culture from which we were formed. We’d both know a certain amount about our history, would laugh at the same culturally-referenced jokes, understand how Texans are different from Vermonters. We’d eat hot dogs, maple syrup, and coffee in containers.

I didn’t know if I’d actually like him if I got to know him. No matter. The U.S. – in the face of this Customs official – was hugging me.

I love traveling, seeing new things, learning about other cultures and other languages, other ways of seeing the way things can be. And I love coming home. In fact, home is better because I travel. Otherwise, it would just be “normal,” invisible.

I know how to do things at home. I can joke around with servers in restaurants or complain to the customer service rep at the cable TV company. I know when I’m entitled to ask for a refund or exchange, and I know how much leeway to take with the “5 garments allowed in the fitting room.”

If I didn’t spend time overseas, I’d never be aware that one could either know or not know these simple things. They’d be more like breathing. Who knew that it’s culturally specific to smile at a stranger on the street when you make eye contact, and that if you do it in France, you’re considered crazy?   When you have the experience of not knowing how to do everyday things – how to get sheets that fit your bed, then return them because you erred – it can seem like a very big part of your exciting but sometimes difficult life.

I never feel much like an American, whatever that means, when I’m in the U.S. But I’m very American when I’m in another country. It strikes me that I feel like a New Yorker mostly when I’m with people who are not from New York. I feel Jewish when there are no other Jews around. And I suppose, if I were with people from another planet, then I’d feel like an Earthling.

So when I travel I’m not just learning about other cultures. And I’m not just learning about my own, by seeing the differences in other places. I’m learning how much of me is rooted in my culture.

*     *    *

Carole Howard is the author of Deadly Adagio, published by Indigo Sea Press.  It’s a murder mystery with a musical undertone, set in West Africa.

 

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Flood Waters

The last time I heard so much hype of rain and hurricanes, I was living in Wilmington, NC. At or below sea level, naturally when it rained we flooded. A lot. In fact the street outside my second floor apartment was a regular river when we got two or more inches of rain. But we were in college, so instead of making wise, adult decisions (because adults always do that…) we looked out the window and saw people street surfing and thought ‘hmm…that looks like a disaster waiting to happen’. So naturally, we went out to watch.

Fortunately, no one was hurt or killed, but as we were standing out on the lawn cheering on the surfers we noticed a little Toyota (I think it’s a Toyota—this was 2006 and I can’t really tell from the pics…if it’s not a Toyota, just go with it) make its way to our street. It paused as it got to the flooded area, got out and studied the surfers. Made some impatient hand gestures—clearly wanting them to get out of the way so the Toyota could pass through. Even as unwise college students, we knew this was an even worse decision than street surfing, so we tried to wave the person off, but…well let’s just say the hand gestures began to escalate so we eventually moved out of the street to let him pass.

Now, I lived in a decent looking apartment complex, with a beautiful pond across the street. Beautiful. On that day, when the Toyota revved his engine and tried to plow it’s way through the flooded street we learned just how deep that pond was, because the Toyota only made it about halfway before it began floating away, down…down…down and into the pond. There was nothing we could do, brah, but help Toyota dude get out. Fortunately, the pond only went up to the door of the Toyota and other than the car itself, no one was hurt. Well, except for Toyota dude’s pride, which I still think is at the bottom of the pond along with his transmission.

When our South Carolina governor issued the warning: Turn around, don’t drown. I kind of smiled a little at the corny tune, but that image of the stupid Toyota in the pond on a road he could have gone around stuck in my mind—because all he had to do to avoid that street was circle the block! Everything else around us was fine and he’d have added maybe 3 minutes to his journey instead he ends up ruining his car. And the sad part is, the sight of the car being towed out of the pond didn’t deter other drivers from trying to pass through. They just kept plowing through this flooded street, unphased by the potential damaging effects of this flood. Some got through (flooding their vehicles), some got stuck, and though only one ended up in the pond, it still all seemed a little ridiculous. 

And it got me thinking about how often my life looks that way. I get so busy moving forward, trying to push through the waters, or street surfers, that I miss all the warnings. I either miss them or I just choose not to listen because I’m impatient, I’m in a hurry, or it feels like the floodwaters are closing in. When all I need to do is turn around—turn right—circle the block and I can get back on track. Many times God places a roadblock in our way for a reason. Not so we can plow through it and injure ourselves, but so we can experience something new and rest in the pockets of grace He has set up along the way.


Ashley M. Carmichael is the author of Valerie’s Vow a novel published by Indigo Sea Press and Second Wind, which can be purchased at Amazon. Please follow Ashley on Facebook or on Twitter @amcarmichael13.

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Back to Business? by Sherrie Hansen

It’s been a little over a month since we came back from our dream vacation to Romania, with a delightful stopover in Devon and Cornwall, England. While I cherish the memories of the exceptional things we experienced and the beautiful places we saw, it’s been so busy since we’ve been home that there’s been little time to bask in the glow of vacation bliss.

Pictures from phone 9Sept2015 184  Pictures from phone 9Sept2015 177 Romania - Bran Castle

The price you pay for being gone three weeks… bills and responsibilities at work pile up, an intimidating stack of mail needs your immediate attention, and the suitcase full of dirty laundry you brought back from the trip is daunting. You step off the merry go round for a few days, but the world keeps spinning, and sooner or later, you have to run fast and leap on to the carousel to catch up.

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But despite the busyness that’s plagued me since our return, I’ve been writing. With inspiring images newly etched in my mind and fresh voices echoing in my head, I can’t help myself. It’s amazing what clearing the cobwebs out of your mind and giving your brain a good spring cleaning will do.

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Being back from vacation has also reminded me that I love living near my extended family. I missed them while I was gone and am happy to be in a place where I can regularly visit them once more.

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I really do like my life, the way I earn a living, and the things that occupy my days. I feel a renewed sense of gratefulness for the things that I have and the life that I lead.

BBI - side view

I also feel challenged to take more mini-vacations – to go to a concert or take the time to attend a festival or community activity, to make time to read a book or go for a walk or take some photographs of the beauty that surrounds me right here, in my own back yard.

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I feel inspired to take better care of myself, to get more sleep, and to do simple things like eating breakfast, to pamper myself in little ways every day, not just when I’m on vacation.

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Sweet William, the Wildflowers of Scotland novel I’m currently working on, will be a better book because I took time out from my busy life and renewed my perspective. Seeing a different corner of the world infused my life with color and light and music – an unfolding drama that is vastly different from the daily grind that so often consumes me.

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Take a long vacation if you can – leave the country, do something drastically different than the norm, rediscover yourself in the faces of a foreign country. If you can’t, go for a walk, escape the house, even if only for an evening of music or fun, sign up for an online class, invite someone you don’t know very well to dinner… Shake it up. I promise you, you’ll only be better for the experience. And keep on writing, or moving, or dancing. You have to put your own oxygen mask on before you can help others. Rejuvenate!

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