Edit, edit, edit...the new publisher wants me to “show” not “tell” my story.  Since I have always been a story “teller” I am having a difficult time converting my style.  And I really don’t want to-- which makes it difficult.   But....

If I want a traditional publisher, I have to learn to write what they want.  And I don’t want to self-publish unless it is a last resort.  That way to publish doesn’t get you into book stores, libraries, newspaper columns, book clubs or anything else that touches the public.  

You can self publish on Amazon for free....although there are dozens of advertisers telling you that they will publish your “Christian” book...send them money and they will “help” you.

Nope.  That’s a racket.  They give you nothing that you can’t do for yourself.  So...I am between a rock and a hard place.  I’m trying to “show” action instead of “telling” it.  Like I said...edit, edit, edit.  If I don’t get somewhere soon, I’ll self publish and let you know.

I am going through papers that have been sitting on that high chair I gave to my sister Lisa for over a year!!  I found this quote from someone--I don’t know who:

“One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is grieve the loss of a person who is still alive.” I was reminded of that quote when my friend Jeanette told me of her nephew who was in a rollover and lived hopelessly  unconscious for days after the accident.

My cousin Ann and I did that for our mothers who were sisters.  They both had Alzheimers.  It is such a long, sad, descent into nowhere.  You can’t reach them and they can’t reach you.

My plan for the rest of the day is to gain weight.  I’ve been eating everything that isn’t nailed down, but can’t seem to put the pounds back on.  I’ve even started drinking milk--which I don’t like.  Whole-fat milk.  I’m up one from last week.  Maybe it is working.  Everyone else I know is trying to lose weight.  

It is the end of the week again.  How this happens, I don’t know.  I turn around and the week is gone.  My sister Lisa (21 years younger than me) was here for turkey day and took a high chair home with her that has been used by dozens and dozens of babies through the years.  It was hers when she was small and all of my grandchildren and their children have used it as well. 

She was glad I had kept it all these years.  It is a carved solid wood, walnut-colored, pull up to the table chair... no tray...It fits exactly so that the arms of the chair go under the edge of the table and baby thinks they are grown up!  I’ve used it as an end table (!) to hold papers for years--papers that I intend to go through and never do...so I now have to do something with the papers.

She sent me a picture of Charlie...her first grand-baby...at her table...sitting in his grandmother’s (her) chair. I’m glad I hung on to it for 60 years.  It is a sweet picture to me.  So many babies in the family have used it.  It’s a “come to the table with the rest of us” chair!  You don’t have to sit off by yourself and eat off a tray. 

    We are going to be down tomorrow from 47 to 26 or so. Becky is once again going to host all who show up.  Kathy sent two pans of rolls, I’ve made dressing and gravy. Everyone brings something and it’s always a surprise.

    Squig went to the vet last night.  Fluids, appetite enhancer, etc.  It’s a monthly deal now.  His vet has hours from noon to night some days which helps.

    We celebrate thankfulness this week.  I am so thankful I can see, hear, walk, take care of myself, pay my bills, type, drive to the vet, have plenty to eat, have heat, home, electricity, running water...just think of all of the people in the world who don’t have the basics of life.  We are so blessed in this country...and don’t even think of all the things we have most of the time.  

    “Every good and every perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father of light in whom there is no variableness neither shadow of turning.”

Squig is going back this evening to see his favorite vet.  She calls him by his name and he crawls into her arms.  When I let him out of the car, he heads to the vet doors.  That is such a blessing.  It is hard enough to see him deteriorate, but liking his vet makes it easier for me.

He couldn’t keep anything down yesterday.  How do you know when to let him go to heaven?  He isn’t in any pain--that I can tell.  He sleeps all day and seems happy doing that.  He crawls under the covers every night to sleep where it is warm.

Yes...Squig will go to heaven.  Since Jesus is coming back on a horse, I know there are animals in heaven.  And as far as I know, Squig has never had a single sin, so he doesn’t need to repent.  I don’t know what the criteria are for a dog to go to heaven, but Squig is top dog in the area of “being good.”  He is such a sweet dog.  He is my best friend.

I was stacking up the bills that came in this last week to pay them, and my computer won’t let me do it.  Why??  It is just one more thing that my computer does to mess with my sanity.  I don’t know how to fix anything when it messes up. They say the thing to do is call your grandchild.  They know what to do.  

But the thing that irritates me is that I am going to have to put on my woolies tomorrow and drive to the bank, take my computer with me and get them to fix it.  I really don’t want to get out into the cold.  But I can’t even follow the instructions they give me when I call the service number.

All in all, the system is rigged to make me feel like an idiot.  And the scary thing is, maybe I am?  Why can’t I learn this stuff and all these keys on my Mac.  Why do I learn how to do one thing and forget another?  Computers were supposed to make things easier.  It may have happened for you, but it didn’t happen for me.  I stay confused.

This publisher that is communicating with me.....which in itself is a miracle--they seldom do that....wants me to revise the book to “show” the story rather than “tell” the story.   Where would a person start to do that!  And how?  I don’t have a clue how to do that.  I am a story teller.  My kids say, “Give mom three facts and she will make up the rest.”

I call Carolyn every time I write something and read it to her.  She has spent countless hours going over what I write because she loves me and believes that the stories I am writing are worth publishing.  So if Carolyn approves--and she has a Master’s in English composition--that should be the seal of approval.  I basically am satisfied once Carolyn gives her okay.

This new publisher has made me appreciate the publisher who is working on the first book I submitted.  She spent hours and hours on the phone with me going over every page, making corrections, rewriting a sentence...etc.  She called and worked on over 250 pages with me day after day, after day--until we were both satisfied.  It seems impossible to do what this second publisher wants...I need more help that “Telling me what she wants me to do.”  I need someone invested in it like Carolyn is.  But of course, that requires love.

I learned something yesterday.  Pat took me to Tulsa to the dermatologist I’ve been going to for forty years.  I like him so much, I thought it would be worth the trip of an hour and a half to go see him.  Nope. I can’t do it anymore.  I have reached the point that a trip of that sort is now out of the question.  

It is now the next morning and I am still suffering the effects of riding in the car, unable to stretch, giving up my heating pad, etc. etc.  Getting older is just a series of giving stuff up. I’m just having a terrible time knowing when to quit. 

I went to a new GP last week and she asked me, “Why are you here?”  I said, “I don’t know how to quit.  It seems like failing.”  And of course, I don’t like to fail.  But one by one, the things I used to be able to do, I can’t do anymore.  Unless I want to spend the entire next day sitting in a tub of hot water to soak the aches and pains.  Here’s my plan:  Be thankful for what I have left, and quit trying to be Wonder Woman.  That gal split a long time ago. 

There is a place in the Pryor park (15 mph limit) where--if you are going fast enough--you can fly over a hump in the road.  Which, (of course) my 16 yr oldest son had to try.

The lovely thing about a small town is that everyone is in on raising your kids.  It’s everyone’s job.  Before “that son’s” car hit the ground again, I had a phone call.  “xxxxx just took a fly on the park hill; thought you’ld want to know.”  I did want to know.

When he came in the back door, I didn’t say a word...just held my hand out, palm up.  The keys were deposited in my hand, and as far as I know, he learned his lesson.  But, of course, with raising a boy, there are dozens and dozens of lessons to learn.

I always appreciated the help.

Every now and then you hear one of those old sayings you hadn’t heard before.  I’m sure all of you know this one, but I hadn’t heard it:  “They’re too poor to paint, and too proud to whitewash.”

I doubt many of you know about whitewashing because you didn’t grow up in the 40’s...I doubt anyone uses whitewash anymore.  It’s kind of like watered down chalk.

We have dozens of sayings like that in our language.  I’m sure it is hard for people who speak another language to learn ours.  They say English is the hardest because it doesn’t exactly exist on its own, it just borrows words from other languages.

Ken used to say (when something was tight) “That’s as tight as Dick’s hatband.”  I asked him once what it meant.  He said he didn’t know, that it was just something his dad always said.  I don’t know what a hatband is anyway.  Men quit wearing hats long ago.  So did most women.  But back in the 50’s I had a dozen or so hats.  I took them to my booth at an antique store and a guy came in one day and bought them all as a present for his wife!!!...The women at his church still wore them.  He thanked me for saving them and not throwing them out.

Yesterday, I took my meds, only to find out that the pharmacy got the order wrong, which I didn’t know until later.  I don’t even look at it, but one of my friends was here and noticed it.  Thank God for friends.  

As a result, Jeanine..who usually helps me with that, didn’t come over to help me.  We may wonder sometimes why things go wrong.  But if the order had been right, Jeanine would have helped me, and she tested positive for Covid later that day.  And I didn’t get exposed.  Sometimes things go wrong for a reason??

Squig is holding on.  He is eating whatever he wants.  No more special diet.  No point in trying to extend his days by feeding him something he doesn’t want.  He is happier.  And he has quit throwing up.  He spends a lot of time in my lap.  We are growing old together.

 I am cooking supper this evening.  Roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, fried okra, and tabouli.   I haven’t cooked a meal in a year, so we will see if I still have the touch.

Becky has gone to Italy...so I am going to feed Craig.  David and Jennifer as well...and of course, Steven and my friend Jeanette.  She is coming over early to help me get it on the table.  They will all want  me to take some of Kathy’s rolls out of the freezer...we’ll see.  I’m not sure I want to share those!!!  

I went to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things....I hadn’t been in a long time.  The prices have more than doubled.  And shelves were empty.  Some things are no longer there. 

Money doesn’t go as far as it did a month ago.  People are going to be eating a lot of potatoes. 

Last night, I went sound to sleep at nine.  At ten after ten, someone yelled “Janie” really loud.  It was the strangest thing that has happened to me in a long time.  I hit the floor running...but nobody was there.  I checked the house.  Nothing.  Just me, myself, and I.  I wasn’t in a dream.  There was only that one word.  Nothing before that....or after.

But of course, I was wide awake.  So I was trying to think why I heard someone yell for me, and of course the story of Samuel came to mind.  And Eli, telling him to go back to bed...three times before Eli told Samuel it was God calling his name.

You can be sure that I explained to God that if He was the one who called me, that I was listening.  Maybe I was just supposed to remember and read about Samuel...and be aware that God does sometimes call our name.  I went back to bed.  Slept very well, no dreams or wake ups.  I just know now that if God ever does want to call my name, it will wake me up.   

I spent all morning at the AT&T store.  I gave up trying to talk to someone on the phone who reads from a card and talks and talks and talks and never answers the question you have asked them.  And when they answer you, it has nothing to do with  what you are asking.

My neighbor Jeanine across the street even took my bill and tried to negotiate with them....no luck.  Me-thinks they are a monopoly and don’t really have to deal with us anymore.

Anyway, the lady at the store got $18 off the bill, and then got another $40 off as well.  That’s almost $700 a year.  She didn’t know why they were billing me so much, and neither of us could figure out anything the people on the phone were telling us.  I guess I will find out what they did when the next bill comes.  I kept saying to the person on the phone, “Please...will you stop talking and listen for a minute...You are saying things that don’t have anything to do with what we are asking.  The lady at the AT&T store was frustrated with them as well.  I’m going to spend the rest of the day in peace and calm.

I went to vote today, and they had something I had never seen before...maybe I just missed it.  I parked in a handicap place, and a poll worker came to my car and asked if I wanted to vote from my car.  The area where I was parked was reserved for in-car voting.  I can’t tell you how much better it was than last time when I had to park, walk a zillion miles, and stand in line for an hour.  I can’t do that anymore.

The person who was in charge of that area took the ballot to the attendant and ran it through the machine.  Squig went with me, but they didn’t let him vote.  He was disappointed.  He was going to stamp the dog and vote Squigitarian.

All the arguing about how we vote is distracting.  Last year I voted by mail, but forgot to register to do that this year.  I will register to do that before I forget it.  There are thousands upon thousands of people who don’t vote because they can’t get to the place to do it, thousands who can’t walk to the booth, and thousands more who can’t stand in line.  That is a shame.

October is gone.  I just don’t know where.  This has been the fastest-slowest year I have ever lived.  Moment by moment was slow.  Month by month evaporated.

A lot of people I know have this respiratory virus that is going around and it is awful.

I was typing this earlier today---and had to stop...I got a nose bleed like Niagara Falls.  Couldn’t get it stopped so I had to go to the emergency room...and listen to elevator music for an hour.

All is well, but I’ll have to post tomorrow.

The world has forgotten how to think.  Everyone is arguing about stupid things.  I can’t help but think about what separates churches...speaking in tongues, when to be baptized, what day to go to church, whether the church saves you, healing, etc., etc.  instead of the point of it all which is:

Jesus came because we can’t save ourselves.  He died to save us from ourselves.  Our opinions about all of the things in the Bible really come down to two rules. 

1.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul.

2.  But....Love your brother in a different way altogether!!!  Love others as you love yourself.  Not with your “heart, mind, and soul,” but with care for them.  Treat them with kindness, forgive their mistakes, don’t judge, help them when they need help.    We need to rethink the way we approach religion.  It’s really pretty simple and doesn’t include things that divide us.