Monday, September 21, 2015

Well, it is that time of the month again!

Well it is that time of the month again. The one most women avoid discussing. You guessed it! Dying your hair.
I loathe dying my hair and would prefer (and suggest!) to leave it to the professionals but my bank account disagrees. So while on a Bread mission for the American Legion post I did some side shopping.

Now I am pretty spontaneous. I play with color a couple times a year and since it is fall why not red? Now I have done red many times in the past so picked up a box of Feria POWER RED by L’Oréal.
Now you can’t just dye your hair. You have to prepare first. So I gathered up my dark towels and cell phone and new box of joy and headed to the bathroom, where I planned to camp out for about an hour.

Most women use an old t-shirt to wear. I am the messy sort so I color in the nude. I rip open the box and dump out all these tiny little bottles and tubes into the sink. I break open the instructions and am quite surprised to find BLACK GLOVES. I carefully read the instructions and pre-set my phone timer for 25 minutes.

I try to match the bottles and such up to the horrendous drawings in the instructions. There is writing but I can’t read it without my glasses and you can’t wear glasses when you are dying your hair.


So I put on the gloves and start my mad scientist project. Now I am familiar with hair dye. Normally when you get done mixing all of the bottles and ripping tubes open with your teeth, you get a whitish purpley or brown color. But no. This was POWER RED and it had the same color and consistency of BLOOD. So I start immersing this goop into my hair. It runs down my face and I am having Carrie flash backs. Or the Shinning perhaps. I look into the mirror and am expecting to see “Redrum.”
I do notice a bloody hand print on my neck and try to wipe it off before it too becomes permanent. SO with my head and upper body covered with red smears and goo I hit the timer on my phone. 25 minutes.

Looking around I notice my bathroom resembles a crime scene. What is a gal to do?
Take pictures of course. Now I am NOT good with selfies. My arms are not long enough. In fact I just bought a selfie stick the day before. But I am not running through the house naked and bleeding down stairs to get it.

SO 15 bad pictures later and one I could salvage, I am happy. So I sit on the toilet and play Plants vs Zombies 2 until the timer goes off.


Hop in the shower (this is when the naked part comes in handy and you don’t have to strangle yourself trying get a t-shirt off over your goo saturated head.)

I am rinsing out my hair and glance down at the dark red bloody water around my feet. I forgot to open the drain. And I really wish I had my camera! But Alias you will have to use your imagination.
Hop out and dry off. And let me tell you when they say POWER RED, they mean POWER RED. It looks like my head is on fire.

‘Till next time…

Sunday, April 5, 2015

PTSD- No Apologies Open Call for Submissions

22 Soldiers commit suicide every day.

That needs to stop.

It is our wish to share your story with others, so they know that they are not alone. I believe that PTSD is far more rampant than is projected.

Many dwell in silence. Living one day to the next.


For me writing is a release. I think it could help others as well. To purge your soul, free your heart and mind.
To tell your story.


We accept stories, poems, songs, art, photos. Anything you would like to share.
 Anonymous submissions are accepted.

Or if you need help writing, I have authors available to help.


Lemon Press Publishing
PO Box 459 Emerson, GA 30137

Introduction- By Lynn Hubbard

Some memories stay with us forever. I used to live in New Jersey. There wasn’t much self-sacrifice at our school. In junior high we had a guest speaker. The entire school was herded into the auditorium to hear him speak. There was much chatter ad mayhem as we fumbled for seats next to our friends. Once more or less settled, the Principal introduced to us a man.

He was different from the typical stiff tied puppet that was usually announced. This guy was not perfect, he had scars. This fact in itself caught our attention.

Then he began to speak, and we listened to his story. 

He had been injured in Vietnam. He was on a patrol boat on a river. The air was thick with smog and the river was even filthier. He stood on deck keeping watch, An enemy boat approached and fighting commenced. A phosphorus grenade exploded in his hand and ignited him. . He was thrown free from the vessel, and into the oil filled river. The river burned and so did he.

He ducked under the water to escape the flames, but the water was so polluted they would not extinguish. He started to sink, yet the fire still burned. He burned all the way down, and all the way back up as he swam for the surface.

Even then he had a zest for life. It would have been easy to just give in and be engulfed. But he wasn’t done yet.

Guided by the flames above, he broke through gasping for air.  He was pulled back onto the boat and the flames were beat out.

I can’t imagine the agonizing pain he must have went through just to live. But live he did. He recuperated, slowly. And fate brought him to my school. 

By now the room was silent. Each lost in their own thoughts. And then he started to yell. To yell about how we are wasting our lives. Lives that we have, due to the sacrifices of our soldiers.
It was at this point in time that the staff started to evacuate us from the room. They escorted us out and I could still hear him shouting out his message.

For us to Live.

That we have a purpose.

And then we were rushed down the hallways, and back to our safe little rooms.

Then it happened.

The teacher apologized to us.


I was pissed then, and I’m still pissed now.

So this book is being written for him. And for anyone who needs to be reminded that they have a purpose. 

That they need to live.

Living is so much more than just surviving.

Surviving is the easy part. 

Living is hard, but oh so worth the effort.

No Apologies.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Welcome Spring!

Welcome Spring

As a romance writer, I contemplate love a lot. It’s my job. 

In paper world it is easy to spot the hero. In real life not so much.

Everyone has a façade. Sometimes you have to dig down deep to find the real person inside. Sometimes they are even more beautiful, but sometimes they are blackened souls.

Every relationship is a risk. You risk losing a bit of yourself, or even your heart. Hearts are terrible sensitive things and are easily bruised or broken.

Too many people give up too much of themselves, and are left empty when it is over. Life is the eternal test with no right or wrong answer. It just is.

I am older and wiser than I used to be. I’m not as trusting, but I am trustworthy.

Relationships are not all about Love. They are about honesty, loyalty, companionship, passion, and fun. And should be a combination of such.

A good analogy is my dog. When I get home from work, my 50lb dog is ecstatic! She is so happy to see me. EVERY SINGLE DAY. That is the kind of relationship I want.

When a relationship is going south, you are not happy to see that person. They become an annoyance. And then dread. If you dread seeing your special someone it is time to move on. Seasons change and so do we.

People change. It is inevitable and not all relationships last. 

And your heart breaks. And you feel dead inside.

Like winter.

And like winter, coldness creeps in, and you lose hope. 

You doubt yourself. And everyone else.

But after winter comes spring. Spring is a time for change. To step out from the darkness and lift your face to the light. A warm breeze caresses your skin, and you realize that you are still alive.  

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Dog Ears

Dog Ears

No no no. 

Not puppies. I’m talking about books.

It’s the things that make librarians and teachers cringe.

But I can’t help myself. I’m a flapper.

After every section I read I turn down a corner to mark my place.

Yes, yes, I know it is detrimental to the book. But it is MY book. And I like to use it as a guide, to mark my spot and see how far I have come. A milestone (or timeline of sorts) of my journey through the pages.

Each flip marks a section in which I had to return to real life. Some crisis or another like sleep, work, etc. Those pesky things that ruin our reading.

I like to read with no distractions. Very difficult these days. But, I read when I can. And when I need to stop.

 I Flip.

Yes, yes of course I have bookmarks! I love bookmarks, I collect bookmarks. But bookmarks are fallible. A book cascading from a sleepy hand to the floor and bam! Your place is lost. And much fumbling and searching ensues.

With dog ears, you can simply find your last point and move forward. It cuts out the chance of peeking too far ahead and ruining everything!

Plus, bookmarks are glorious things! They come in all shapes and sizes and wondrous colors. 

Why would you want to hide them in a book?