Touching Base

and Catching Up

I got the sudden urge to touch base with my readers/fans/friends since it seems as if it’s been “a while.” Color me shocked when I realized just how long it’s been. How could it possibly be May already? May 2024? Where has nearly half of the year gone? Another nearly half of a year of MY life—gone. Pardon my mild panic, but the older I get, the more conscious I’ve become of just how little time I might have left. I’d like to think I have another thirty years in me, maybe even get to 100?; but, what if there are other cosmic plans in store for me? What if there are only another twenty… ten… five… or, heaven forbid, less than a year left on my life calendar? Yikes. Better get a move on!

I mean, I have my reasons why I’ve been so quiet since December; and, I think they’re pretty good ones. They have to be considering my most recent book, A Woman Like Eve, Book 5 of The Em Suite Series has been seriously neglected. I had marketing plans for it that went right out the window because of, well… everything. Truth is, I find it difficult to focus when I don’t feel well, when I’m cold, and am in the midst of life-changing events.

So, the reasons. Well, winter… but, in January, we had extremely cold weather (and all that goes with that in my current living situation), and my back kept going out—over and over. But then, in February, I finally found the property for which I’ve been searching. Finding and buying that property and all that goes with that is a great deal of what’s kept me busy and preoccupied. Oh, and I was sick most of March—I got the flu, paired with a wicked, lengthy, cold. Boo.

My property is a long way from being a home right now—just dirt and trees—but it’s a giant step in the right direction. As some of you know, when faced with a jacked up lot rent, I decided to take advantage of the local skyrocketing real estate market and sold my manufactured home in 2021. The goal was to find my own private Idaho—my own land—where I could write, paint, garden, play music, and grow old unmolested by ridiculous lot rent increases that were swiftly surpassing my future earning potential.

So, I bought and moved into a large, old, motorhome. My tin can as I “lovingly” refer to it. The timing kind of sucked—I turned 65 in said tin can, frozen to my core and cuddled up in my blankets with my pup, (and three layers of clothing). That’s a milestone I’ll never forget, but, a whole other story unto itself.

Silly me, I thought finding that forever place would happen sooner than it did. Sillier me said aloud, to myself AND THE UNIVERSE, “If I need to, I think I can do this for three years to find the right place.” By the time my cabin is built and I’m burrowed in for the winter, it will have been three years. Proof, I suppose, that the universe is listening—always. Be careful what you say out loud, eh?

At the end of January, about to lose my mind after a terrible cold snap (my refrigerator shut down for three weeks because the outside temperature was too cold— -12ºF chill factor -30ºF), I told the universe to stop mucking around and find me a property. Tout de suite! In February, what I’d been searching for finally appeared, so I bought it. Bam!

Is it perfect? No, but it ticks most of my gotta-have boxes. Each time I go up to check on the progress, I love it more and more and don’t want to leave. It’s what I can afford, so close enough. It’ll work.

When I’m not teaching music, my mind now goes constantly as I mentally design, build, redesign, and rebuild my forever home. My cabin in the woods. Ha! I thought my last three homes were going to be my “forever” homes. Oh, well. A girl can dream. Maybe this time…

I have a builder who is putting up the shell of my cabin; then, aside from the plumbing, flooring, and electrical, I will do most of the interior myself (with the help of friends here and there). I’ve done that type of work before, but just remodeling. It’s been a dream of mine for over thirty years to build a home from scratch where demolition isn’t part of the package. I hate demolition.

Of course, thirty years ago my body was, well, thirty years younger and not so… fussy. It may take me far longer than I’d like to finish, but better that than tin canning it the rest of my days. Can I get an amen?

As far as writing goes, I’ve begun mulling and plotting my next two writing projects. The continuation of Nom de Plume, the as yet untitled Book 2 of The True Life Adventures of Djuna Shellam. Yup, I’m starting to get the itch again, but I have to exercise extreme patience. I’ve gotten super good at being patient in my “old” age.

I actually find it interesting that the older I get, the more patient I become. Seems odd, doesn’t it? When I was young and seemingly had all the time in the world, I was annoyingly impatient. Couldn’t wait—everything had to happen NOW, NOW, NOW. But, now, in my late sixties, when I don’t have all the time in the world, my attitude is: It’ll happen when it happens. Because, with age, I’ve learned you can’t force anything—if you do, bad stuff happens. Every. Time. You’ve got to just let it be.

Sometimes, I think I shouldn’t mention my age because, y’know, “Okay, Boomer,” but then I think “Screw that.” Getting here isn’t easy, my friends. I can’t write honestly if I’m filtering my life experiences to cloak my age. There’s wisdom here and not just because I’ve walked the earth longer. It’s born from experience and mistakes. Lots and lots of mistakes. Younger people may think they know more and oldsters are just annoying, clueless, useless eaters who’ve ruined everything for the younger generations. Perhaps in some cases that’s true, but I don’t know if we’re solely to blame for the state of the world today.

Things were better for Boomers—from our perspective. My parents—one from the Greatest Generation, or WWII Generation, and one from the Silent Generation—both thought the world was far better when they were young, and that the older generation ruined all that was good. It’s generational, and, it’s perspective. The fact is, we had no more power to affect the state of the world than anyone today has—it’s the shadowy powers-that-be who’ve run everything since the beginning of time. If anything is ruined, I say blame them. My opinion, of course.

That said…

With so much on my plate, as much as I’d like to, I honestly can’t see myself seriously writing or podcasting until winter. That’s when I’ll be hunkered down in my cabin, warm and safe from the elephants (sorry, old “elements” joke)—if all goes to plan, that is.

In the meantime, I do spend a bit of time on X (the social media site formerly known as Twitter), I hope to do more on Facebook, Goodreads, and even TikTok, though it has a bit of a learning curve. Needless to say, they all take time, but I do want to learn how to manage my so-called social time better. Hope to see you there… and there… and there… and…