At the first of every year, people make a list (mental or written) of their goals—things they plan…or hope…to accomplish during the next year.  The sad truth is that statistics show people tend to make the same goals each year…with just as much fervor and just as much determination…but seldom stick to the plan long enough to reach the finish line. 

Why is this?  Oh!  I bet I know.  I mentioned, “sticking to the plan”….  Do you even make a plan on how to reach that goal? Or do you just toss out grand intentions of what you’d like to do (sounding much like a politician) without first figuring out what needs to happen if you are to accomplish what you’ve promised yourself?  Or have all those past failures convinced your subconscious that you can’t do it, so why try so hard, thus setting yourself up for another failure.

If I were going to give someone just one hint on how to reach those goals, I’d start by getting that person to acknowledge if there had been past attempts at this same goal.  Then I’d tell them that they must put a leash on their subconscious by telling it that this time WILL be different.  But HOW will it be different?  Ah, now I’ll get to the one hint I’d give the person.

 Much like a writer starting a book by writing an outline, after deciding on your goal, you need to plan out the process.  Okay, so that might not sound revolutionary, but hang in there and I’ll try to quickly get to the point.

 How do you eat an elephant?  In small bites.

When my daughter, Kim Barker, turned 40 and committed to participating in an Iron Man triathlon, she had already been doing 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons, even a half Iron Man.  So deciding to commemorate her “BIG 4-0” with an Iron Man was a reasonable goal…as long as she stuck to the plan that would get her body in shape for the abuse of a 2.4 mi swim, 112 mile bike ride, & a 26.2 mile run.  (click on her name to read a blog article about her race.)

 In fact, on August 6, 2010, I also wrote about my son-in-law, Kent Barker,  (click his name to view)  and his goal of doing an Iron Man and how health almost stopped him.  BUT with perseverance and commitment to that goal, he went to Kona, Hawaii and raced to victory.  (The article includes a video interview that Channel 9 in Washington D.C. did on Kent.)

Just as Kim set interim goals on her road to victory, everyone who has a goal should do the same.    For instance, writing 1 page a day…or averaging 500 new words every day is an interim goal.  So is finishing the first chapter of your new book and then the first three chapters.  In losing weight, you might set a date for losing the first 10 pounds and once you accomplish that, reset the interim goal to 15 or 20 pounds. 

 Always reset the goal and always stretch yourself to do just a tiny bit more each time.  An hour on the treadmill every other day for the past month at a certain speed?  Great!  Now push the speed up a notch or two…or increase the incline by a degree or two.  Before you know it, you’ll be crossing the finish line with your arms held up high in victory!

Share an accomplished goal with us…or one you’re currently working on that you’ve made progress on.    OR, did this article spur you on to making a goal that you now plan to accomplish?    Leave a comment and you just might be the victorious one and win a $5.00 Starbucks card.  And if you have been inspired today to tackle a new goal and your name is pulled, I’ll throw in an extra little surprise as a congratulations.   Good luck!

On March 29^th, my husband and I celebrated another anniversary.  Some years we simply go out to dinner, but since we eat out quite often, that’s not nearly as special an outing as an anniversary deserves.  Hey, when you start counting years together by decades, the day should never be taken for granted, but embraced!

Numerous years ago, my husband told me he didn’t think it was a fair deal that it was always left up to the guy to plan the outing to celebrate the anniversary…and since I had to admit that he had a good point, we decided to trade off.  This year it was my turn.

I debated and debated, but then my March copy of Southern Living arrived and I found exactly what I was looking for in one of the articles.  I made the reservation and we left home about noon the day before our anniversary, headed to Milledgeville, Georgia.

I can just hear some of you…..Milledgeville, Georgia????  “Never heard of it.”  “What in the world is in Milledgeville, GA?”  Well, now I’m glad you asked because I’m here to share our overnight trip with you…..well, some of it, anyway. (g)

I made reservations at the Antebellum Inn, a Bed & Breakfast in the historic district of town.   I’ve stayed in a few B&Bs before, but I must tell you that the atmosphere, décor and service at this one would be difficult to beat.  The owner and hostess is Jane Lorenz and she is the epitome of gracious southern hospitality.

We stayed in the Magnolia Room, but there were four others just as interesting and just as lovely.  Our room featured a claw-footed tub, a king-sized four-poster bed and for those who wanted to keep in touch with the outside world, cable TV and Internet.  When she escorted us upstairs, she carried a cut crystal decanter of fresh, filtered water and cut crystal glasses.  It’s these thoughtful touches that make so much difference.

We asked our hostess for a suggestion where to dine and she immediately recommended Aubri Lane’s Restaurant.  Then she offered to call ahead and make a reservation for us.

The restaurant, (named after the owner’s two children), has been beautifully renovated and has a wine list and food menu that makes the choices extremely difficult.  We each chose white wine to compliment the Tilapia served on a bed of couscous with a spinach salad and a side of steamed broccoli.  It was, hands down, the best Tilapia I’ve ever eaten.  (I considered trying to bribe someone for the recipe, but……)

The handsome young man who gave us such impeccable service is a senior at the local college, majoring in Accounting and planning to continue on to get his MBA.  He was polite and gave just the right amount of service without hovering.  We passed up dessert—another difficult decision, but the fish was so good that I had no room left for anything else.

The owner came out to greet us and wish us a happy anniversary and as we talked, he told us that he and the owner of the B&B are working on plans to offer a package deal in the future to include a room at the Inn and a cooking class with him.  Okay, that sealed the deal…I’ll definitely be going back to Milledgeville.

After dinner we walked along the shops in town and planned which ones we’d visit the next day before heading home.  We stopped off at the Blackbird Coffee Shop.  Our waiter had recommended it and, again, it was fabulous.  Despite Easter week vacation, there were a few students there with computers and I see why.  Our lattes were perfect…rich, creamy, smooth, and no bitterness from over-roasted beans. Nice ending to our day.

The next morning started with breakfast, prepared with my diet in mind.  Having previously being asked about our preferences, we were served scrambled eggs, bacon, a delicious thick-cut wedge of multi-grain bread, fresh fruit compote, juice and coffee.  We enjoyed talking with two other couples also staying at the Inn and ended up spending the morning with one of the couples when we took a guided Historic Trolley Tour together.

On the tour, we learned many things about Milledgeville, including that it was once the capital of Georgia.  We enjoyed seeing all the antebellum homes in the historic district and learning their history.  Oh, and for those interested in old, haunted homes…I’m happy to tell you that Milledgeville has a haunted antebellum home where Miss Sue walked the halls and grounds long after her death.

The city is rich in Civil War history, as is Macon, Gray Clinton, Eatonton, Madison, Watkinsville and Athens, all cities along the Antebellum Trail.   www.antebellumtrail.org   If the Civil War era interests you, you need to treat yourself to a few days in southern Georgia’s smaller towns.  Or, like us, instead of taking a long vacation out of state, take an overnight trip to each of the cities and see what’s right in our own back yard.

Ever heard of this woman?  If not, you’ve been hiding under a mushroom for wayyyy too long.  This is Jillian Michaels, health guru and star of The Biggest Loser.

http://www.jillianmichaels.com/publicsite/funnel/v2/index.aspx

You can also read about her in the March 2012 issue of Health magazine where she is featured.  I love something she said in the article.  “When you’re physically fit, you’re more confident and empowered.”  Now, don’t we all want to feel confident and empowered?  Absolutely!

In January when my doctor told me that I was borderline diabetic, I have to admit that he got my attention.  I know I’m …well, a few pounds overweight, and the part of my body that gets the most exercise is my fingers…on the keyboards, but diabetes?   I know what foods I SHOULD eat, and I was willing to eat healthy…as long as it wasn’t time for turkey/dressing/pumpkin pie and all the rest of the holiday goodies.  Oh, and chocolate?  Yes, that was consumed in much larger quantities than was healthy.  Okay, but now the rubber had met the road.  The doctor had just hit me between the eyes with a huge brick and I knew something had to change.

Another quote from Jillian Michaels in the Health magazine article:  “To sustain a healthy change, you have to ask yourself: Why do I want this?”  I had several answers to that question.  It all had to do with how I looked, felt & thought about myself.  …plus the thought of diabetes scared the dickens out of me and the will power into me.

Thankfully, hubby said he’d eat whatever I put in front of him and for two months now, he has joined me in eating fish & broccoli, grilled fish and steamed mixed vegetables, salads, and a lot of other very healthy stuff.  I haven’t had dessert in two months & realize I can easily live without it.  I’ve cut down on carbs, increased fruits & veggies, decreased the portions and, as mentioned above, I  cut out desserts.  Oh, yes, and I started on a regular exercise program & generated enough sweat to possibly satisfy Jillian Michaels.  By the way, I’ve lost 27 pounds and I’m still working on it.

What I’ve learned from this experience is that when you want something badly enough…or when the consequences are high enough…AND when you’ve reached the point that you figure there’s only one course of action left to avoid those consequences, then we can accomplish our goals.  And when you really think about it, this is true not only in losing weight & getting in shape, but it’s true about every aspect in life.  Want to be a better dancer?  Or how about being a better friend?  Or a better wife or mother?  Or a better writer?  Or……well, you can fill in the blank.  We all have an area of our lives where we feel we’re weak, but if we truly want to improve in a particular area, why not take Jillian’s advice and start by deciding why you want it so much.  Then make a plan and work that plan until you reach your goal.  Come on!  You can do it!  I have faith in you!  And the best days are yet to come, so enjoy the journey as you look forward to the rewards ahead.

Is there something in your life that you’d like to change or a goal you’d like to reach?

Since my day to blog fell on Valentine’s Day, I was planning to give you some history about Saint Valentine and his day.  But, the more I researched, the more I came to realize that it was a little dry and ….well, boring.  So, I decided to talk about something that would be of more interest to most of us.     Chocolate.

Do you have any idea how much chocolate is sold in America for Valentine’s Day?  According to Nielsen, we will purchase…and consume…more than 58 million pounds of chocolate.  Can you guess the only other holiday to sell more?  No, not Christmas, but Easter with 71 million pounds of chocolate being sold.  But, back to Valentine’s Day.  We also purchase more than 8 Billion little, pastel conversational heart-shaped candies.  Can anyone say, “Sugar Overload?”  Just as a side note, 40% of the world’s almonds and 20% of the world’s peanuts are used by candy makers for the chocolates they make for Valentine’s Day.

Americans like to not only give tons of yummy chocolate to our sweeties, but we like to give it in red, heart-shaped boxes….over 35 million of them.  Oh, and we can’t forget cards.  This (and Mother’s Day), are the two biggest card-selling days of the year.

Roses?  More than 100 million roses are sold for this holiday.  A nation-wide survey revealed that women would rather receive one perfect red rose than a dozen and although men prefer to receive chocolate, women prefer to be taken to dinner.  The average man will spend more than $130 on his sweetie…with some spending a LOT more if they tuck an engagement ring in with the roses.

Oh, and don’t forget the pet!  At least 3% of pet owners give cards to their dogs & cats!

All I can say is that candy, roses & dinner sure beat what they had to go through in the 17th century.  It was believed that eating a hard-boiled egg and then pinning five bay leaves to her pillow would make a young girl dream of her future husband.

Personally, I prefer Henry David Thoreau’s theory.  “There is no remedy for love but to love more.”

by Sandy Elzie

The other day someone sent me a Maxine cartoon.  I think I love this snarky character so much because she so often says what I’m thinking…and what I’d love to say if I didn’t care about being polite and remaining a Southern lady.  Sometimes she says exactly what I’m thinking and we laugh because we see the humor and laugh at ourselves.

Do you have a friend like Maxine?  Someone who tells you the truth regardless of your feelings and you laugh because you know she’s just being honest….like we laugh at the Maxine cartoons?   Or maybe we don’t laugh because sometimes the truth hurts?

Well, I got to thinking about circumstances where people tend to react in “stupid” ways…okay, okay, I know we teach our kids that we should never call people by that “S” word, but sometimes you gotta wonder if someone fried their brains…right?

For instance, I read a report once, while living in California and working for the Department of Transportation, that said someone had rented a Winnebago, and once he was out on the freeway, he put it on cruise control and went to the back to take a nap.  Huh?   Yep, it really happened.

Then there was the bank robber who slipped a note to the teller saying that it was a bank robbery and the teller told him she couldn’t activate the cash drawer without scanning a driver’s license.  The man actually handed her his driver’s license.  (Was he high on illegal drugs or something?)

Speaking of bank robbers, there was the one who wrote a note for the bank teller on the back of…..yes, you just might guess this one…..on the back of one of his own deposit slips.  Oh my goodness.

When we do things that are less than intelligent, I hope we can laugh at ourselves just like we laugh at Maxine, because life is too short and sometimes it’s just better to laugh at something than to get upset.

So, have you heard of any stupid crook stories?  Share them…..we can all use a laugh now and then to lighten the load.    Have a great day!

I’ve also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.

I have, however, been in Sane. They don’t have an airport; you have to be driven there.  I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends, family and work.

I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I’m not too much on physical activity right now.

I have also been in Doubt.  That is a sad place to go, and I try not to visit there too often

I’ve been in Flexible, but only when it ‘s very important to stand firm.

Sometimes I’m in Capable, and I go there more often as I grow older.

One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenalin flowing and pumps up the old heart! I need all the stimuli I can get!

And, sometimes I think I am in Vincible but life shows me I am not!

**********************

I can’t take credit for the above, (a friend sent it to me in an e-mail), but I can tell you right now, I agree with every word!  Can you think of any other place where you’ve visited…but might not want to live?

AND WHAT’S AN ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION WITHOUT GIFTS???????

I have some prizes up for grabs to two lucky people who leave a comment today.    How about a good book and a good cup of coffee on a cold winter day?  I’m giving away:

To my First winner:  A gift card for Amazon OR Barnes & Noble for $5.oo PLUS  a gift card for Starbucks for $5.00 PLUS a coupon for a download of one of my e-books (your choice which one)

To my Second winner:  A gift card for Starbucks  for $5.00 PLUS a coupon for a download of one of my e-books (your choice which one).

My e-books are written under Sandra McGregor. Wow!  A chance at two great prizes and all you have to do is leave a comment!  What could be easier?

The Time is at Hand

The moon was still low in the sky, but its near-fullness bathed the new library building with a beam as if from a spotlight.  Without the streetlight that normally added illumination in the front of the property, dark shadows extended out across the lawn and onto the sidewalk.  “What happened to the damn streetlight?”

He was still frowning when he cruised past the front of the dark building.  Detective Bonner took his foot off the gas, allowing his car to gradually slow as he neared the parking lot.

“Damn, I’m too late.”  His fist slammed down hard on the steering wheel, sending a pain shooting up through his wrist to his elbow.  The killer had designated her as the next victim—or at least that’s what the person wanted Désirée and the police to think, but talking to Giselle had made him late getting to the library before the crochet class ended at nine.

His heart thudded.  Her car.   A chill flooded his system to pool at his bladder.  Every muscle in his body tensed.  In the shadows, at the far end of the parking lot, sat her Civic, conveniently parked near the back entrance to the building.  “No.”  The word whispered out on a breath that was ripped from his lungs.

To the beat of his thumping heart, he drove closer to her car, slammed his foot down on the brake and jammed the gear into “Park” before the car came to a complete stop.  The heavy vehicle rocked forward and back, but Detective Bonner didn’t wait as he leapt from behind the wheel.  With his weapon drawn, he approached the vehicle in a crouched position, as his eyes darted left, and then right, before he focused on the vehicle.  His eyes strained to catch any movement—any sign of life as he approached with stealth, but everything was deadly quiet.

He shuddered as that last thought ran through his mind.  Deadly quiet?  No, not his Désirée—please, not her.

“Désirée!”  As he approached the car, he switched the gun to his left hand and grabbed the small penlight he kept clipped to his shirt pocket.  His heart thundered in his chest, while adrenalin propelled him forward to close in on her car.  The gun shook slightly, but he tightened his grip, steadying the weapon as he neared his objective.  A few more feet—not dead, please not dead.  His thoughts drummed out the mantra to the rhythm of his heartbeat as he mentally prepared himself to face whatever he found in her car.

One last step and he flipped on the small beam of light, holding his breath as he stared through the tinted windows.  A quick sweep of the interior showed a candy wrapper and an empty Starbuck’s cup, but not Désirée.

He released his held breath in a whoosh as his shoulders sagged, but almost instantly he realized that if she hadn’t left in her car, then she was probably still in the building and there were no lights on inside.  No time to think about his heart slamming against his ribs as he whirled and darted toward the side door.  He took the three steps in one bounding step, slamming into the side of the building even as his hand was out grabbing for the doorknob.  The lock rattled as he twisted it back and forth, but it was locked.

He sprinted down the steps, across the parking lot, around the side of the building and up the front steps, sliding to a halt as he reached the porch and saw the double doors standing open.

His heart sank, landing with a thud even as it bounced back to lodge in his throat.  What was he going to find when he went inside?  He had been attracted to her, had dreamed about her and now…was she going to be the third victim in his growing file on the Library Murders?

He stepped to the side and flipped out his radio.  “Dispatch, this is Detective Bonner.”

“Yes, Detective.”

“Requesting back-up at the library.  Building unsecured and librarian possibly missing.”

“Rolling back-up.”

He clicked off the radio and took a deep breath, allowing it to slowly release into the cool evening air before he decided there was no way he could wait for help to arrive.  What if she were injured, bleeding, but not dead?  He had to know.

With his eyes now accustomed to the dark, he ducked into the building, crouching low as he made his way inside.  With his gun in one hand, he ran his hand along the wall beside the door, looking for the light switch.  It was with a sense of relief that he flipped the switch and the room was flooded with light.  After allowing his eyes a couple seconds to adjust, he started across the room, his eyes constantly darting around to watch for any movement.

The room smelled of coffee and…cookies?   That seemed strange, but maybe the Hookers had brought refreshments.  He continued to the far end where the body had been found earlier, relieved when he saw nothing out of place. Even as he heard the sirens growing louder as the squad cars turned onto Michigan Avenue, he noticed the books on the floor of one of the aisles.  It wasn’t like Désirée to leave any books lying around.

As he drew closer, he saw the chaos.  He glanced down an aisle where books were strewn on the floor.  As he continued along the rows of books, the scene was repeated until he reached the last aisle, near the side door.  Romance.  At first glance, it appeared that nearly every book had been taken from the shelves and heaved.  Books littered the floor of the aisle and out into the seating area.  A few had landed on the tables and several were on the floor under chairs and tables. No neat stacks, no care of handling.  This scene reeked of anger—unleashed hostility.  It screamed of brutality if this anger was directed at another human.  It pointed to enough anger to kill—and kill again.

His already frantically pounding chest kicked up a notch.  He began to run, glancing down each aisle as police entered the building, announcing their arrival by yelling that they were the police.  When he was satisfied that she wasn’t in the library, he darted back to the front and skidded to a halt near the two officers.

“The door was open when I arrived.  The librarian’s car is outside, but I don’t see her in here.  Recheck everything and everywhere for anything out of place—well, except all the books at the end over there,” he said, pointing, “but don’t move any books.  There might be a clue in all that jumble.”  He took several deep breaths before he finished.  “I’m heading over to her house to see if she’s there.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he raced toward the front door, he slowed enough to toss one last order over his shoulder.  “Call me if you find anything you think might be important.”  Then he refocused and allowed the adrenalin to spur him on.

His cruiser roared to life a fraction of a second before it jetted out into the street, fishtailing slightly before the tires grabbed traction and spun, sending up black smoke as he shot forward.   Sweat had popped out on his forehead and was now running down into his eyes.  Drawing on the training he gained in the military, he shoved the emotions to the back of his mind and focused, even as his fingers swiped across his brow and then slid across the material of his slacks.

He rolled to a stop in front of the small bungalow where she lived.  There were lights on.  He heaved a sigh.  Her car probably wouldn’t start and she’d gotten a ride home.  A nervous chuckle slipped out at the panic he had felt and the additional officers he had called in. “She probably thought the front doors were already locked and didn’t check them,” he reasoned as he turned off the engine and opened the door of the car.

His muscles were bunched, ready to stand when his cell phone rang.  He had learned that a phone rarely rang after nine o’clock at night without there being trouble.

He had a premonition that he didn’t want to answer the phone.  “Yeah.”

“Sir, you said to call if we found anything.”

His stomach sank to his feet.  Was she…no, he didn’t want to hear it…didn’t want to think about it.

“Sir, the books on the table at the end of the last row of books?  They…the titles seem to be giving us a message.”

“What are they?”

“The Time Is At Hand, by Charles T. Russell; Until Death Do Us Part, by Sherrilyn Kenyon; and Valley of Silence by Nora Roberts.  Or else we’re so spooked that we’re reading too much into this, but they’re lined up in the middle of the table.”

“Okay, thanks.”  He clicked the phone closed, ending the call.  “The Time Is At Hand…well, that’s easy enough to understand,” he muttered.  He slid from the car and stood.  When he reached the porch, he rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently and finally ringing it twice more before giving up and admitting that she wasn’t there.  He tried the door, not surprised when he found it locked.

Maybe she was…Without waiting a moment longer, he used the butt of his weapon to break the glass that ran along the side of her front door, then reached in to unlock the deadbolt.

Once inside, he moved cautiously, but without wasted time through the few rooms, noting their pristine condition, but, thankfully, not finding her.  He didn’t need, nor did he want another victim.  “But, where is she?”  He stood in the small living room and pondered what to do next.  “Until Death Do Us Part.”  Marriage? Death?  He shook his head as he headed toward the front door.  It didn’t appear she had returned home from the library, so she was still out there—somewhere.  “Maybe hurt, or afraid.”  He hated feeling helpless.

He reached for his phone and called dispatch.  “Detective Bonner.  Put an APB out on Désirée Devereaux, the librarian, and find out who belongs to the Happy Hookers, or whatever those women call themselves, and call them at home to see when they last saw Miss Devereaux.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And hurry.”  He clicked off his phone.

He had taken only a few steps when the phone rang again.  His emotions warred between irritation that whoever was calling had disturbed his concentration and praying that it would be Désirée telling him where she was and what was going on.  “Yeah.”

“Bonner.”  He recognized the hoarse whisper immediately.

“Where are you? And why are you whispering?”

“He’s coming, but I can’t see.  It’s dark and…and…please help me.  He’s crazy.”

The quietly spoken word was hissed, sending a chill down his spine.  “Where are you?  In a building?”

“No, I got away.”

He could hear her panting between each short sentence, but her words weren’t telling him where to find her.  “Are you on a street?”

“No, I’m in a field…no,” she panted as if she were running, “I’m, I’m…shhhh, I hear him coming—I’ve got to hide—Be quiet.”

He stood, rooted to the sidewalk, unable to move as blood pulsed through his temples, shooting a sharp pain behind his eyes as his head throbbed in cadence.  Hoping to pick up even the slightest background noise that would tell him where to look for her, his ears began to roar, blocking out every sound but her rapid but shallow breathing into the phone that was still connected with her—still a lifeline to the woman that he was finally willing to admit that he was falling in love with.

He held his breath, fearing another question would be overheard and put her in danger.  He was at her mercy, unable to speak, unable to save her.  She had the ball and would put it into play if and when she felt it was safe.  Until then…

“Bonner.”  The hoarse whisper was softer, but more urgent. “I need you.  He’s going to kill me.  I…”

“Désirée…Désirée?”  The line was dead.  He had been cut off.

#  #  #

Will Danny find Désirée before it’s too late? Who has her? Find out more tomorrow.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a prize. Be sure to watch the sidebar for the winners.

The Plot Thickens

It had been two days since Ada Rawlings had been found, lying in her congealed blood in the Mystery section of the newest branch of the Harrow County Public Library system.

It was Wednesday morning and the sun was just peeking over the horizon when Désirée tiptoed onto the porch of her old Victorian home, barefoot and wearing only her nightgown, to grab the newspaper before dashing back inside.  She stopped in the foyer long enough to rip the rubber band from around the paper and unfold it.  It took only seconds to scan the front page and find the follow-up story about the murder.  Two days and it was already below the fold.

Detective Danny Bonner had given a bare-facts story to the paper the day of the murder, but although the newspaper stated that he was the leading investigator, he hadn’t been quoted since Monday.  What was the man doing?  Was he making any progress?

Désirée had asked around about the new detective, but no one seemed to know anything about him except what was obvious to every woman in town whether they were single or dreaming about the days when they were.

The man was tall, dark and, from all accounts, handsome, in a rugged, no-nonsense way that Miss Bonnie over at the grocery story had described as almost military.

“Handsome or not, doesn’t the man realize that there’s more to this than just the murder?”  She mumbled all the way to the kitchen where the coffee she had set the previous evening was waiting.  “She was supposed to be on a Mediterranean cruise, for heaven’s sake,” she continued, glancing at her cat sitting patiently near the refrigerator.

Désirée tossed the paper on the dinette before she opened the cabinet and jerked a mug from the shelf.  The coffee sloshed as she grabbed the handle of the pot and filled the mug.

With utter disgust evident even to herself, she grabbed the carton of coffee creamer, added a generous amount and then thrust the milk carton back in the refrigerator before she bumped the door closed with her hip.  After setting the coffee on the table near the offensive newspaper, she flopped into one of the four matching dinette chairs.

“Drat,” Désirée mumbled, biting on a fingernail after spreading the newspaper out on the table.  The cat had stood, following her to the table and now waited expectantly, turning to gaze at the dish waiting near the refrigerator where Désirée usually put a small dollop of milk for her each morning.

“Deci,” she said, glancing down at the cat, “I wish they’d tell me what’s being done to find her killer.”  The cat glanced back at her mistress, blinked slowly and then jumped onto the small round table, slinked between Désirée and the newspaper and promptly laid down, flattening the paper under the weight of her furry body.

“Deci, how can I read when you’re laying in the middle of the page?”  The cat ignored the question, licked a paw to be used to wipe her furry face and started to purr when she heard her name.

Désirée awkwardly slid the paper from under the feline and sat scanning through the short article once more before pushing the chair back and standing.  “They don’t seem to have a clue what’s going on but I’m sure the bonehead policeman in charge won’t let me help him.”  She had offered her help before and had been laughed at.  The detective had called her a “book whisperer” and had dismissed her without even listening to what she wanted to do to assist them in their case.

Her shoulders drooped as she sighed.  “I’m going to miss her.  She was the best boss I’ve ever had.  Well,” she reluctantly admitted, “she was really the only boss I’ve ever had, but there couldn’t possibly be a better boss in the whole wide world.”  She sat frowning as the thought suddenly hit her that she would have a new boss now.  Who would it be?  She hoped it would be someone who really loved books and wouldn’t mind working at a branch in such a rural community.

Désirée brushed the shoulder length highlighted hair out of her face and continued reading.  The paper said there had been some difficulty finding any relatives, but apparently some would be arriving by Saturday.

She was no longer hungry, didn’t even care about the coffee that was left to grow cold as she dragged herself from the chair and headed toward her bedroom.  She hated funerals in general, but when it was someone who had been a long-time friend, it made it much more difficult.  Ada had hired her right out of high school and had given her a chance to prove her worth.  Désirée would never forget how much that had meant to her.

She mumbled her thoughts about the detective while getting dressed and she was still mumbling when she slammed the front door on her way to work.  She had driven only a couple blocks when she pulled to a stop at the sign, looked both ways and then sat contemplating the whole situation.

Were the police doing enough to find the killer?  No, she was sure they weren’t, but she was also sure that they would refuse her offer to help and even scoff at her claimed ability to “listen” to the books.  Oh, it wasn’t like the books told her their story, rather she could “read” the afterglow of those who had held and read the books in the past.  She wasn’t sure where this ability had come from, but she loved knowing that people had enjoyed reading the books and, for the most part, she had enjoyed the unusual ability.

The only drawback had been when someone had been holding the book when they had been engaged in an argument.  She shuddered at the thought of one book in particular she had picked up to put back on a shelf and had dropped it to the floor as the rage leapt from it to her hands. It had taken every bit of her courage to pick up the book again and quickly slide it onto the shelf.

She slipped through the second yellow light as her mind whirled.  Surely she could help the police…even if they didn’t want her help.  She’d check the records to see what books had been returned that day and what the handlers had been thinking and experiencing.  It might be a long shot, but she had to do something.

With the luck of the saints, she avoided a speeding ticket on her way to the library, arriving almost an hour early, but happy that it would allow her enough time to “read” a few of the books that had been returned recently.  She hoped and prayed that one of them would shed some light on the case…since she couldn’t help thinking, as she mounted the front steps of the library, that this case was like one of the many mystery books she had read in her lifetime.  The Case of the Dead Librarian or The Case of the Missing Key.

“Hey,” she said aloud, stopping short after twisting her own key in the lock.  “Have all the keys been accounted for?”  Her thoughts were spinning as she stepped inside the library and shut the door behind her, twisting the lock to keep out any patrons before the official opening time.  She also wanted privacy to take a quick look around and see if the police might have overlooked a clue.  They didn’t know what the library was supposed to be like, so they might not realize that something was out of place.  That was the first thing she could do to help.  She was actually surprised no one had asked her to do it yet.  “They don’t know what they might have missed,” she murmured.

Désirée quickly slid her purse into the bottom drawer behind the checkout counter, flipped on the printer under the counter, and tapped the keys of the computer, instructing it to list all the returned books from Friday through Sunday, sorting by type of book.

With the list in hand, she headed toward the Mystery section first, hurrying down the rows of shelves until she reached the section she wanted.

The police had kept the library closed for two days to dust for fingerprints and whatever else they accomplished, but she doubted they had found anything.  She had a feeling…and her feelings were seldom wrong.

She skidded to a stop as she rounded the end of the shelves and started down the aisle past the murder scene.  She sucked in a breath as her hand came up to clamp over her mouth and hold in the scream.

Her heart was pounding as her chest heaved in and out.  With concentration, she closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow.  Her hand slipped from her mouth to cover her chest over her galloping heart.  It took a few moments, but when she opened her eyes, she was able to scan the mess made by someone pulling books at random and throwing them into a big pile in the middle of the aisle between the two tall bookcases.

“What in the world happened here?”  Désirée stepped up to the closest book, stooped and picked it up.  Her hands were gentle as she ran her fingers over the cover of the book.  With reverence she opened the book, noting immediately that symbols and words had been scribbled across some of the pages in black felt pen, marring the book, ruining it.

Her heart sank.  Who would do such a thing?

With dread, she sank to her knees, reached into her jacket pocket for a tissue and gentle picked up several more books.  She wasn’t surprised to find similar markings in them.  What did the markings mean?

She stood slowly, one hand on the bookcase to balance herself; a book still clenched in her other hand.  She wanted to cry at the waste of so many books…for she was sure the rest had been mutilated in similar fashion.

Her lips thinned as her hand balled into a fist.  “I’m not going to let whoever this is get away with it.  If the police won’t let me help, then I’ll just do it without their permission.”  She could envision herself storming into the police station with evidence in hand and demanding to see Detective Bonner. “Huh,” she snorted. “I’d tell him a thing or two and then I’d give him the evidence that would crack the case.  He’d be so happy that he’d….”  Well, she wasn’t sure what he’d do…or say, for that matter, but it was a sweet thought that she would love to see happen.

Désirée whirled around and ran for the front counter where she grabbed a pen and pencil.  She needed to get the names of the books and the words and markings.  Then she’d call the police.  While they scurried around doing…whatever it was that they did, she’d have something to start working on.

It took every bit of the hour to quickly list the books and the symbols and words.  Some were repeated, but she had four pages of notes by the time she heaved a sigh and stood.  She prayed that using the tissue to touch the books had prevented the transfer of her fingerprints and she had tried to put the books back on the floor as close as possible to how she had found them.  She knew she wasn’t supposed to touch anything at a crime scene, but…well, she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that this was important and that the police needed her help even though they didn’t realize it yet.

Her feet dragged as she slowly made her way to the front desk to dial 9-1-1.  She had noted the secrets that each book had shared with her; had “read” the aura of those who had recently held or read the books.  She had a lot of work to do if she was going to find a pattern…if she was going to find anything that would help the police find the person who had killed Miss Rawlings.

She had felt the anger…and a bit of frustration…on each of the books that had been thrown to the floor.  Not words, just anger and that frightened her.  Who could possibly be angry with Ada Rawlings?  She was sweet and nice to everyone and the kids loved to come hear her read stories every Friday morning during the summer.  Who could possibly want to kill Miss Rawlings?  Or had her boss seen or heard something that she wasn’t supposed to hear or see?  Maybe she had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time.  But why had she been in the library instead of on the cruise ship?  Too many questions and not enough answers…yet.

# # #

Who pulled all those books off the shelves and threw them on the floor? And why? Find out more tomorrow! And just like yesterday, we’re giving away another $5 Amazon gift card so comment away.

By:  Sandra Elzie

Today, Dec 5^th, my mother would have been 84.  She died way too young, but then cancer has a way of ignoring age.  (She was 69 when she passed)  At the same time she was living her last days, my father was in a rest home with Alzheimer’s, so there wasn’t much I could do for either of them to make life better except just be there for them.

Now, I know this sounds like I’m writing a very depressing blog today, but please know that they loved each other immensely, held hands ALL the time and you might say that my mother worshiped the ground that my father walked on.  Although they only had 51 years together, they loved a lifetime.

Was my father romantic?  As their daughter, I would have said that he loved her deeply, but romantic?  It wasn’t until after their death that I found some letters that he had written to her while he was in the Philippines during WWII.  Romantic?  Oh, yes!  I had a peek into their private relationship and it is a precious gift.

But other than having their ashes buried in Arlington National Cemetery (something that would have made my father very proud, if he had known), what else could I do for them?  For several years, a story was rattling around in my mind about my mother, Cora Jean or Jeanie, raised in Denver State Orphan’s Home and my father, Doyle McGregor or Mac, raised on a farm in North Carolina.   Without WWII, they would have never met.  (Oh goodness, and there wouldn’t be…ME!)

In October of this year, at Moonlight and Magnolias conference, I went prepared to “pitch” an inspirational, but during a panel discussion put on by the agents and editors, I heard two of them mention an interest in seeing a historical based in/around WWII.  Five years earlier I had written down several incidents that my mother had told me about, a total of about 13,000 words, but then set it aside since no one was looking at WWII.  But now, apparently, they want to see WWII.  Oh goodness, what is a girl to do?   Yes, those of you who know me know EXACTLY what I did.

I was able to get an appointment with the agent who had mentioned WWII, “pitched” the story, and then went home to write it.  I had 13,000 words and I needed 100,000.  It was time to get really serious about that 2,000-word/per day average writing goal I had made in January of 2011.

On November 28, I sent in the partial, and since I had over 81,000 words at that time, I told her that I’d have it finished and edited by the middle of December if she wants to see the “full” manuscript.  I’m pleased to say that the manuscript is finished and I’m in edit mode.

Are my parents the reason I write romance?  I can’t answer that for sure, but I can tell you that my parents definitely gave me a daily reminder that love conquers all…that love is always the answer.

NOW!  What’s a birthday celebration without gifts, soooooo, is you leave a comment, you’ll be eligible for one of TWO AMAZON GIFT CARDS I’ll be giving away today.     (If you’d rather have Starbucks or Barnes & Noble, I’ll do that instead)

A lot of the Vets were still getting out of the service and still getting GI Bill assistance for education and with buying homes, so the housing market was booming.  Most homes at this time were being sold to families.  In some areas, the demand was higher than the supply and that increased prices.

1950 Pittsfleld, Mass.  9-room, brick, 2 bedrooms              $11,500

Chicago, Ill         6 room, brick w/ gas heating             14,500

1954 Fort Pierce, FL    15 acres, 5 room w/ Orange grove      8,500

1957 Ironwood, Mich   40 acres                                                          300

1958 Long Beach, CA  New, 3 bedroom/2bth, built-in

kitchen, ceramic tiles, breakfast bar & brick firepl.   17,700

All I can say to that is, WOW!

Then there was the food.  More women were working…although it was still very acceptable to stay at home and raise your children, but WWII and the Korean War had left a lot of widows.

1950 Toilet Tissue                                5 cents…per roll

Frozen Green Beans               24 cents …per ½ pound

Fresh Oranges                              69 cents… for 2 dozen

1952 Apples in FL                                39 cents… for a 2 lb. Bag

Lettuce                                           25 cents ….for 2 heads

1957 Hamburger                                   30 cents …per pound

Bananas                                        27 cents …for 2 pounds

Campbell’s Tomato Soup            10 cents …per can

Kellogg Shredded Wheat              18 cents …per box

In fact, the only thing I found that came even close of being the same as today was the price of turkey…..@ $ .49/pound.   In some locations, this price can still be found at Thanksgiving.

Popular singers included Elvis, favorite restaurants included McDonalds, and favorite toys included the Hoola Hoop, and Mr. Potato Head.   AND for the first time, you could buy 72 or 81 inch curtains that didn’t need to be starched or pressed.  (Yep, I was born in the right era!)

To read more about the beginning of McDonalds, click on the name.

So, what do you remember being popular from your childhood?   Leave a comment and be eligible to win a $10.00 gift card to McDonald’s!