Nov 23, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Today, now, this moment, I want to thank you. I want you to know how wonderful you are. To see yourself as the amazing, wonderful, incredible person you are. And I want to thank you for sharing yourself with the world.
Your light shines in a way no other light shines.
Your smile brightens days.
Your words give insight.
Your care brings joy to so many hearts.
Your laughter, your tears, your humanity draw others to you.
Because of you, there are less lonely people in the world.
Thank you.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : It takes one candle
And keep effervescing!
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
Nov 22, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Thanksgiving Moments
Share your moments in the comments.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
Nov 21, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
The Assault: Harbingers, Cycle Two
I’m having the best evening. Seriously. The. Best. Evening.
My living room is decced for the holidays. I finagled Friday off work for a four-day weekend. I’m surrounded by three-fourths of Catford Manor. And I just finished reading a really good book.
So you know what comes next.
Sure, you do.
WHOOP! WHOOP! SPOILER ALERT!
Read no further if you don’t want to know the story.
Seriously.
Leave.
Now.
Still here?
#awesomesauce
Read on:
First, I’m glad I was slow in reading this book. It just means it will be that much sooner when I get the next Cycle. Yay, me. A lot of really fun things happened today, a lot of arrows pointing me to get back in the writing and social media games. Not like I haven’t been, but I have spent extra focus on the home and day job. Which, side note, has led to a great set up for next year. Locals, stay tuned.
Anyway. Back to it.
Pops opens the book with his character, Tank, on the edge of a fifty-story building in San Diego, looking over a terribly thick, unnatural, inhuman fog. And this fog, well, it’s not just thick. It has things- evil things- living in it. And Tank’s about to jump fifty stories off a building to . . . What? We don’t know. That’s just the prologue.
So Tank rewinds a few hours and begins to recap. He and the team were in Florida with Andi’s grandparents, preventing another supernatural event when they received plane tickets to San Diego, and invitations to a retirement party for architect Allen Krone. Even young Daniel gets to come with them. So Tank, squirmy in his tux, admires Andi and the others all dressed to the nines, and their luxury limo ride.
Outside, the fancy building is lit in a blue and green glow. Inside, Andi picks up on the patterns in the flooring, in the lighting. There are these trees-not-trees, more like glass trees, that are also lit blue. The fountain is lit blue and green. The team is greeted and directed to the row of elevators, and one opens before they even push the button. The Professor explains their invitations must have RFID chips. Don’t even get me started.
The elevator glows red, which may or may not be significant. And as the team is discussing what they should and should not do at the party, the Professor sighs and says, “Zebra.” And then he explains.
“First thing doctors learn in med school is this: When you hear the sound of hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”
And considering I took that and turned it into how to be a zebra and not an ordinary horse, well, this book just won my heart!
They arrive on the top floor and are enjoying the spoils of basically crashing the party. While the others are trying to figure out how to act inconspicuous and what their next move is, Daniel takes the lead and pulls Mr. Krone to them. The Professor steps up and asks Krone to discuss the building models on display.
Daniel gets all the chocolate ice cream he can handle and Andi indulges in some red velvet cake. [Thanks for writing in the good food, there, Al.]
And then, rumble-rumble. I mean, hullo! It’s San Diego. There’s a good thirty-second quake happening here! Tank holds Andi and Brenda safe, and when it’s over they look for Daniel. He’s over by the bank of windows so Tank rushes to grab him in case of aftershocks. He barely glances outside when Daniel starts screaming. He takes him back to Brenda and Andi, and the Professor joins them.
Now, reader intrusion here: But the benefits of a novella is it can be read in one sitting. And this one was. Hot dog! Because, girl!, things are getting in-tense round here!
They hear a horrible scream. A man at the window has just vomited. Tank again rushes toward the windows, and the man is terrified. That’s when Tank looks. And sees . . . something. But what? It’s a living monster in the fog. This ridiculous, dense, demon-filled fog that completely covers the ground by five feet. From his perch, Tank can look down and sees this monster.
People say there ain’t no such thing as monsters, but tell that to a seal being chased by a killer whale. Monster is in the eye of the beholder, and I was seeing something monstrous.
Oh, and through this, the team has ascertained that Allen Krone is very ill, perhaps dying. Tank gets the Professor to the window, and Krone joins them. Krone doesn’t handle the view well and nearly collapses. His business partners rush to his rescue but they don’t see what he sees.
And that’s when our team know more than ever something terrible is happening.
The professor turned. “Tank. The fog is rising.”
Well, that’s where I’ll leave ya. Tank’s on a ledge about to jump into this beast. Our team is tearful, afraid. And the monsters are reaching for him.
What happens next? Get the book and find out. As always, you won’t be sorry.
With a reading lamp and protective cats,
Happy reading.
~Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
Nov 20, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
As I write this late Sunday night, social media is abuzz with the deaths of iconic people who, for good or bad, were a part of the fringes of media that continues to weave its way through my life.
The first is Mel Tillis. Oh, how I remember “Coca-Cola Cowboy” and “Neon Rose.” Country music was a staple in the family car when we drove up to Grandma’s, on the portable radio when we worked in the garden, on the Hi-Fi for Saturday morning housecleaning. In the late 80s the genre seemed to shift to a more rock feel, so I turned back to the local Top 40 Radio or listened to old tapes. Fast-forward a few years and it’s regained its roots. I now enjoy the croonings of the like of Brad Paisley and Chris Stapleton (especially his remake of Tennessee Whiskey.)
The second is Charles Manson. Living in Southern California, it’s hard to not know someone who knows someone who knows someone who has some connection to someone else who was affected by the 1969 Tate-LaBianca Murders. I can’t say I like any part of this, but his legend is as big as O.J. Simpson or The Billionaire Boys Club. There are just some things that captivate society, and the Manson “family” did just that.
And since these things come in three’s (or so they say), I’m holding my breath and praying it’s not David Cassidy.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : My First Partridge Family Album
Raised on The Partridge Family, I have loved David/Keith even when it went momentarily out of vogue. What can I say? I had the playhouse fantasy of us being the same age and him finding me more irresistible than any other 12-year-old in the world. I watched The Partridge Family every summer afternoon. It was a consistent anchor in a tumultuous world of moving cross-country and teen hormones and debilitating shyness. As long as David/Keith was in my life, I knew everything was okay.
I watched the biographies [even the really bad ones], the tell-all tele-dramas. If he was in a show, I watched it. That man could sell me snake oil in a bottle as long as he sang about its virtues.
As I write this, news reports are telling me of his downfall. His failing body. And a rumor of death that has yet to be confirmed.
This ranks up there with Davey Jones of The Monkees. My first teen idols. Even David’s brother, Shaun, ranked up there. All cute smiles and dimples. And when I saw David in Vegas so many years ago and he looked at me and sang, “I think I love you,” I think I melted!
What’s that? You don’t know the story? Well, let me recap for you:
About fifteen or so years ago, a former boyfriend came to town. We hadn’t seen each other since he moved away over a year earlier, and since it was close to my birthday, he took me to lunch. We drove to the outskirts of the neighboring town, to a quaint little restaurant off the freeway that garnered much attention for it’s 50’s-era style. The food was great, and the coffee was decent. We started talking about really good coffee and he suggested we make the 30-minute drive to the nearest Starbucks [Yeah, this was before my part of the world had a Starbucks on every corner]. I’m game! So off we went on an impromptu coffee run.
Now, when I say I live in the Southern California desert, I mean it. Most yards are dirt, unless you can afford rock-scaping. It’s 90 degrees in the shade, but for Thanksgiving we expect a cool-down trend so it’ll only be 80. Brr. Break out those holiday sweaters, y’all. Anyway, the nearest Starbucks at the time was in Barstow. And how it is that Barstow got a Starbucks long before we did is still a bone of contention around here. Must have something to do with the international outlet stores they have up there.
Sweet. We’re taking a drive, seeing the sights, headed to Barstow. Could life get any more thrilling?
So. You get my excitement at driving just for good coffee. I was thinking this would be a really great birthday!
We were so busy chatting and getting caught up that we missed the first turn off. Hmm. No worries. There’s another one in a mile.
Missed it. Again.
So we kept driving. It’s not easy to get lost on the 15-North. It’s not like there are any side streets to get in the way or mislead us. So we just kept talking, driving, figuring we could turn back once we reach Calico Ghost Town. A darn good birthday drive.
Missed it, yes, again. We were just about to turn around when I saw it. The first billboard indicating Sin City lay ahead: Las Vegas! And what, you ask, did the billboard advertise for that fine town? David Cassidy in Concert. Ohhh, babyyy….! I remember this larger-than-larger-than-life David in a silky red button down suit smiling down at me with The Rio Hotel & Casino in the background. I loved that billboard. I’m pretty sure I drooled. Or squealed. Or both.
I pointed and said, “Ooh, let’s go there!” I was just joking. He wasn’t. He said, “Wanna go?” Just like that. Uhmmm… WHAT?!?! Five dollars in my back pocket. Never been to Vegas. Hair and makeup not quite done properly. We were only supposed to be getting coffee. So I made a quick phone call to my family and said, “Hey, I’m gonna be home seriously late… like, tomorrow morning!” and it was settled.
Two great things happened that night. The first is that David Cassidy stood ten feet in front of me with his microphone, looked into my eyes and sang, “I Think I Love You”, to the dismay of all other females in the audience. The second is that I had a really great cup of coffee. In Vegas.
Now that’s a birthday!
So please, David. Don’t die before I have the chance to put on the old tunes and sit back with a Caramel Macchiato and remember all the good times we’ve had together. Somewhere in my garage is a box of items I never scrapbooked. In there is the table card for your concert. I think I’ll dig it out. And maybe soon I’ll stop in at The Rio and tell ’em Frankie sent me.
TWEET THIS: That One Time Coffee Took Me to David Cassidy @MollyJoRealy #davidcassidy #partridgefamily
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
Nov 19, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Frankly, On Faith.
This is the time of year we don’t need reminding to be thankful for what we have. Food on the table, surrounded by family and friends.
Or do we?
Is it the big things that bring to mouth the words, “I’m thankful.”?
Or is the little, everyday things?
This week I challenge you to give thanks for things not often considered:
- For teeth as we brush them, for the ability to chew food.
- Strangers we pass. They’re someone’s family.
- The fridge that holds our food.
- The attendants at gas stations and convenience stores.
- The air that we breathe.
- The ground we walk upon.
- The pile of papers in the other room. Notes, bills, junk mail, letters from loved ones.
- The ability to show emotion.
There are so many more we can add to this list.
What will you give thanks for this week?
Frankly, On Faith . . . : Give Thanks
TWEET THIS: What will you give thanks for this week? @MollyJoRealy #thanksgiving
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
