I've Moved!

I'm blogging over at my new, updated website now.  You can find me at http://lindafaulkner.com/blog.

Here's a real hero

I am privileged to know another real, live hero.

Check it out on my Wordpress blog.

We're Moving

I've consolidated my six blogs down to three - I'll be posting about our furry friends over at my new blog at: http://lindafaulkner.wordpress.com./

Join me there and feel free to request a guest appearance.

Z is for Zebra

I have two questions for you:

1. Are zebras horses?
2. Are they white with black stripes or black with white stripes?

I also have the answers:

1. Yes, they're African equids (i.e., horses, donkeys, and zebras).
2. Black with white stripes.

Other interesting facts:

• Three types of zebras exist.
• Zebras are herd animals.
• Zebra stripes are a form of camouflage and, when standing in a group of other zebras, one zebra is hard for predators to identify.
• No two zebras have the same stripe pattern--each pattern is like a unique fingerprint.

My sister went on safari in Africa and actually saw several herds. Neat animals.

Z end. Thanks for visiting me during the A to Z Blogging Challenge!

37 years ago today...

I have been remiss with my blogging. Life seems to interfere with everything, doesn't it?

Unfortunately, my priority list in recent weeks eliminated things such as personal time and weekends off. I'll be presenting a two-hour workshop at the annual convention of the National Association of Insurance Women in Las Vegas this week and, I'm hoping, that event will cap off a six-week period of frenzied activity.

Which prompted my memory of 37 years ago today.

As I typed the date on an invoice this morning, I was reminded of my graduation from high school ... yes, 37 years ago today. Mom couldn't make it because she was recovering from major surgery. I don't remember much else, except the weather was fine and so was my dress--even though it was covered for a good portion of the day by that awful blue robe. (Do kids even wear clothes beneath their graduation robes these days?)

That's me to the left of my two cousins (Eileen and Ellen) in the picture. It was taken in the spring before I graduated. Silly me: at the time I thought I was fat. I didn't have a clue about fat at that time. Nor did I have a clue about much of anything.

I was incredibly naive. Life took care of that, too.

But I did want to be a writer--a published writer. And, voila, 28 years later it happened.

What hopes and dreams did you have on the day you graduated from high school? Have you achieved them? If not, when are you planning to do so?

Rejoicing about Death

I seldom publicly share my opinions and beliefs with respect to politics, religion, and other controversial issues. I feel compelled, however, to air my feelings about the rejoicing generated by the death of Osama bin Laden.

Yes, he was a terrorist. Yes, during his lifetime he was responsible for many, many deaths and much suffering. And yes, the world is a safer place now that he's no longer alive.

No, I don't have a problem with the fact that our president (and government) had him killed. What I have a problem with is the unrestrained and gleeful rejoicing.

As a person whose life was touched by the violent acts of a horrible man (not bin Laden), I understand the anger, the pain, the sense of loss, and all the other traumas a person experiences when a loved one suffers at the hands of another. I understand the desire and need for revenge--I've felt it personally. I also understand exactly how it feels to wish an awful person dead--and I'm not proud of that feeling.

What I don't understand is feeling joyful about death--even a horrible person's death.  The fact that Osama bin Laden was evil enough to warrant assassination is sad. It's horrifying and mind-boggling. The fact that he possessed enough personal power and political influence to to affect the world on such a large scale--and that he used all that power and influence in evil, hurtful ways--is even more horrifying and mind-boggling.

Yes, I'm glad bin Laden can't harm another person and that his evil influence has been removed from the earth. I can't help believing, however, that all the rejoicing, dancing, and happiness about his death is ghoulish.

I once attended the sentencing hearing of a man who was jailed for committing a sexual assault. Did I hate the man? Yes. Did I pray for the death penalty? Yes. But during the hearing my heart also broke for the woman sitting behind me in the courtroom: the man's mother.

As much as I was suffering, as much as the assailant's victims were suffering, so was the assailant's mother. She had to witness, with her own eyes and ears, the extent of her son's depravity and evilness. She has to live with the knowledge that she gave birth to him. She has to think of him--every day for 18 years--locked up in prison as he pays for the crimes he commited.

Death wears many faces and none of them deserve rejoicing.

TMOB gets another great review!

I just love it when my books and other writings garner good (and great) reviews.  Here's another one:

Breezy cogent and to the Point, April 30, 2011

This review is from: Taking the Mystery Out of Business (Paperback)

The author debuted her first mystery fiction novel, "Second Time Around," in 2010. Now she's drawn on her years in business and training, as well as her understanding of the language and structure of genre fiction to put together a brief but complete handbook for almost anyone at any level of business activity.

Whether one is a COO, a CEO of a multi-layered organization, or a single entrepreneur, this slender volume has sage advice and clear understanding of both the limitations and the values of this kind of self-help effort. Written in a breezy direct style, the work offers frank direct ideas that, if taken in the heartfelt manner in which they are presented, can lead to successful business undertaking. Moreover, if it should be widely adopted, one might discover a plethora of business success driving our current recessionary circumstances into oblivion.

At first blush I didn't see how this slender book would be of much use to authors in the Crime Fiction community. But developments in publishing and rereading now lead me to suggest there are several fundamental aspects business here addressed which would be of considerable benefit to independent publishers and authors.

You can find Carl Brookins' other reviews on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A1GPD5JPCFSB9E/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp

YOU!

Thank you, visitors from the A to Z Blogging Challenge!

Share something about YOU today. Something that's special and unique, something that sets you apart from everyone else.

TELL US ABOUT YOU!!!!

X isn't so eXact

"X" is a substitute letter.

In Xmas, it's the substitute for Christ. In a signature, it's the substitute for the name of a person who doesn't know how to write.

But what's its purpose in other words? Like:

• X-acto Precision Instruments - You'd think if they were xacto, they'd be defined by a more precise and definitive appellation.
• X-Files - I never got that show. I suppose the "X" could be anything you wanted it to be...
• Xbox - I've heard of it but have no clue what it is.

If I made a product, I'd want it to be unique and different. Something that made the competition look paltry by comparison. I surely wouldn't use the letter "X" as part of its name, thereby diminishing its uniqueness. Shouldn't marketing and advertising have some creativity and pizzazz to it?

Then again, I'm the gal who used her name in each of the businesses she established. Not exactly creative and exciting.

But at least consumers knew my business wasn't the same-old-same-old.

What are your thoughts on the subject of X?

Who is WonderWoman?

WonderWoman is a person who has great abilities to overcome, to survive and thrive, and pave the way for a better world. Thousands of WonderWomen live in this country (and in the entire world).

My focus today is on the WonderWomen who have have triumphed in the face of adversity presented to them in the form of sexual assault.

On April 30, 2011, thousands of people will take a Two-Mile High Stand Against Sexual Assault®. At dozens of drop zones across the country, men and women of all ages will take to the sky and jump. Most for the first time ever. And it's all part of Operation Freefall®, the boldest, highest-altitude, and most daring event organized to put an end to sexual assault.

Operation Freefall is the only event of its kind to increase awareness of sexual violence. The event is held simultaneously across the country on the last Saturday of each April, and it benefits both Speaking Out About Rape, Inc.® (SOAR®) and community-based anti-sexual violence organizations nationwide.

My daughter is a WonderWoman. If you'd care to support this wonderful cause--and all the WonderWomen, WonderMen, and WonderChildren in this country--feel free to visit Laurie's fundraising page to learn more:  click here

Valerie

My favorite doll of all time was Valerie. She had blonde hair (don't most dolls?) and a wonderful wardrobe of clothes, including my all-time favorite red plaid skirt.

I was a real girly-girly when I was a kid and absolutely adored my dolls. I can still remember all their names: Kissy, Chatty Cathy, Tiny Tears, Tammy (my parents never bought me a Barbie doll), Pepper, and the famous Valerie.

At night, I had to dress them in their PJs because, after all, if I didn't sleep in my clothes, why should they? I made them wear sweaters at night and, for those who didn't have sweaters, I made a nest of a big flannel blanket to keep them warm.

My two younger brothers were cruel in their lack of appreciation for my wondrous dolls. Unknown to anyone at the time, the nasty little SOBs buried Valerie in the back yard because I tattled on them. One summer night I put Valerie to bed in the closet and the next day she was ... gone.

I swore someone broke into the house and stole her and was the laughingstock of my brothers--and my parents--for weeks. Until thirty years later when one of my brothers broke the vow of silence and shared the true story.

Valerie's corpse was probably uncovered by an avid gardener years later when mulching the yard before planting some petunias.

What nasty tricks did YOUR rotten little (or big) brothers (or sisters) play on you?

Upside Down Dog Photos

Found this site several months ago and thought I'd share it. Hilarious!

http://upsidedowndogs.com/

Tiger

I am a tiger: dozing lazily in my cage, watching life march by.
I am a tiger: soft and cuddly, warm and furry, colorful and bold – catching your eye.
I am a tiger: lumbering and slow, yet fleet and fast when in danger.
I am a tiger: pacing back and forth, twitching my tail, impatient in anger.
I am a tiger: loud and fierce, roaring in pain, scaring you away.
I am a tiger: lying lazily in my cage, keeping life at bay.

Shepherd, German

Okay, so I continue to stretch the boundaries of appropriate topics for the letter of the day in the A to Z blogging challenge.

I really love German Shepherd dogs and decided to toss up a few photos I've accumulated from a bunch of e-mails over the years. (I also love Labrador Retrievers, Huskies, Rottweilers, and many other large breeds. Any type of dog, with a sweet, lovable, disposition--especially a mixed breed like my very own favorite puppy, Delaney--is okay by me.)

I don't know any of these dogs but I think they're gorgeous.

My first dog was a family dog my parents adopted: Prissy, who was half German Shepherd and half Husky.

My second dog was Gypsy, a purebred, long-haired German Shepherd (another of my parents' adoptees) and the most recent dog my husband and I adopted (8 years ago) was Charlotte, a German Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix.

My husband has a customer who breeds German Shepherds and every once in a while I am required to visit the store to see a particularly gorgeous creature.

What breed of dog do you like ... and why?

What if the apple is Rotten?

Once again, I'm stretching the boundaries of the alphabet during the A to Z blogging challenge. My word for the day is ROTTEN.

Why? Because that's the first "R" word I thought of. Not because I'm negative, mind you, but because it brings to mind something I said to someone today when we were talking about salesmanship.

I've been in sales practically my entire life. And one of the things a lot of salespeople think is absolutely necessary in sales is to quote "apples for apples" when trying to win a customer from a competitor.

Personally, I hate the theory and think it's a bunch of crap. Someone (I think it's Jeffrey Gitomer) has this to say about the apples-to-apples mentality: "What if the other guy's apple is ROTTEN?"

HELLO! If someone is unhappy with his service provider, and he's shopping, something is clearly wrong with the relationship. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean the service provider must be the person with the "issue;" we've all had customers we'd like to give away... But it's a red flag.

I believe in giving my customers what they're looking for and it's seldom the exact same thing someone else has given them. Apples are okay; rotten apples are not.

Q is for Quit

I don't believe in quitting ... as a rule, that is.

I believe in finishing what I start, in seeing projects through to the end, and receive great satisfaction from completing a task.

Sometimes, however, quitting isn't quitting--it's saying to yourself, "I'm not going to continue bashing my head against this brick wall."

How do you know the difference between quitting and being smart?

Personally, I think knowing the difference has nothing to do with your own convenience and/or preference and everything to do with logic. As in, what would you advise someone else to do if they were in your shoes.

Typical example involves a relationship that's going nowhere. You like the guy, but not as much as you once did. Stuff is starting to bug you about him, or stuff is coming to light that you didn't realize before. If your best friend were dating this guy and going through what you're going through, what would you think is in her best interest to do?

The scenario changes, however, if you're married to the guy and not simply dating him. At least it does for me.

What's your take on quitting? And not just about relationships, but in general.

P is for Poop

Aren't you glad I didn't Post a Picture with this Post?

Poop is on my mind these days because my dog and I are currently living in a Place where I need to walk him instead of simPly letting him out into the woods to do his business.

Which means I carry Plastic bags with me and ... well ... you know.

Delaney and I walk about half a mile to an area that abuts the condo association's Parkling lot. It's about 100 yards long and there's about six feet of grass between the Parking lot and the woods. I bring my Plastic bag, Delaney does his thing, and shortly thereafter I feed the dumPster. Other PeoPle think that the area beyond the Parking lot is fair game and aren't so fastidious. And that's okay.

What's bugging me is the lady who lives across the grassy common area. She's an end unit, as are we, and she walks her hyPer, little, barky dog on the grass where he ... you guessed it ... makes daily dePosits.

I'm just wondering:

• Is small PooP different from medium, or large, PooP?
• Is small PooP less stinky or disgusting than other kinds of PooP?
• When you steP in it, does it small PooP make your shoes smell like roses, or ... PooP?
• Does the neighbor-lady really think we can't see (or smell) the little turds her doggy hides in the ground cover?

Oh, one other thing: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE?

O is for "Oops!"

Oops, I'm Overwhelmed!

Life is good, but it's throwing lots of stuff at me these days. I know how to be Organized, but I'm having a difficult time getting a grip on my time.

Funny how life (or is it God?) has a way of humbling us and sending us skidding down the paths we plan to follow and then forcing us through the underbush to pave a new path.

How do you get yourself back on track? How do you prevent yourself from burning the candle at both ends?

Really, I have an inquiring mind and need to know!

N is for "No!"

When we were two years old, we didn't hesitate to say the "N" word. Why is it that as we age we hesitate or, even worse, become incapable of...saying "no?"

It's understandable that we want people to like us, approve of us, invites to their parties, speak kindly of us, etc. But refusing to say "no" for those reasons is a form of reverse blackmail. We allow other people and the opinions we expect them to have to control how we behave.

In the past, I've assumed too much responsibility or agreed to do things I didn't really have time for because I didn't want to disappoint someone else. In the end, I wound up shortchanging myself in the time department and, sometimes, in other ways.

Two years ago, I decided to (as my mother would say) turn over a new leaf. My New Year's resolution for 2010 was to "take care of myself." That goal turned out be a bit too vague. So, in 2011, my New Year's resolution is to "be selfish and put myself first." That doesn't mean I'm totally inconsiderate or rude. (says me) But when making decisions: I think of myself first and make decisions more based on what I want than what I think other people want or what they actually do want.

I'm finding myself assuming fewer responsibilities these days and the ones I do assume are much more enjoyable--and I'm not finding myself stretched for time to attend to them.

Can you say "no?" Can you say "no" easily? Care to share some tips?

Monday is the M Word

Unlike most working people, I like Mondays. Sure, I hate to see the weekend end but I'm pragmatic: all good things end. Instead of getting upset about the end of the weekend I'm thankful they repeate themselves every seven days.

Monday gives me a fresh start. I have 52 times a year (or 4.3 times per month) to begin again. I know I'm going to be crazy-busy, so I seldom create serious goals for completion on Monday. I figure if I make it through the day without major mishaps, it's been a good one. (Especially on those Mondays when there's a full moon!)

My father is 81 and he retired at age 55. He hardly remembers what Mondays are like, claiming the days all blend together because he doesn't have five weekdays and two weekend days--he has perpetual weekends. Nice if you can do it, I suppose. I choose to believe retirement's boring. Maybe that's because there isn't a snowball's chance in hell that I'll be retiring at age 55 (which is right around the corner).

What's your take on Mondays?