“happy” world mental health day

Originally posted on mulatto diaries:

No matter who is “most likely” to suffer, we’re all affected.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness:

-A mental illness is a medical condition that disrupts a person’s thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning. Just as diabetes is a disorder of the pancreas, mental illnesses are medical conditions that often result in a diminished capacity for coping with the ordinary demands of life.
-Mental illnesses can affect persons of any age, race, religion or income. Mental illnesses are not the result of personal weakness, lack of character or poor upbringing. Mental illnesses are treatable. Most people diagnosed with a serious mental illness can experience relief from their symptoms by actively participating in an individual treatment plan.
-During the first full week of October, NAMI and participants across the country are bringing awareness to mental illness. Each year we fight stigma, provide support…

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How to Write a Review

How to Write a Review.

Here’s an informative blog on writing book reviews, by Kristy Tate, AUTHORS OF MAIN STREET.

Baking up a Storm – 1935 style

Baking up a Storm – 1935 style.

Starting Over #4


Today’s snippet is part of a new WIP, tentatively titled ‘Starting Over’.

The story of Victoria and her little shop in Oak Grove Square continues. This week we’re writing to a photo prompt. Only 300 words!

Enjoy – and feel free to leave a comment. Click the link here to go back to the main Tuesday Tales site for more entertaining story snippets.


TT_moon july 2014The wagging tails at the front door almost dispelled her wrath. Almost.

It was when she walked out back with Cody and Cowboy that the brilliant calming light of the full moon fully soothed her. In its place a gentle wave of loneliness washed over her. It didn’t happen often. And when this feeling did drift into her life, it was usually only for a brief time. Generally Victoria was extremely happy with her life. It was full. It was satisfying. She did what she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it. And a life with an occasional moment of feeling alone was certainly better than having someone in your life that cheated on you whenever they got the chance. Or, in the words of the pilot she’d banished long ago, “… only when ‘the magic’ was gone.”

From now on, she was in charge of the magic in her life. She intended on flying solo for the rest of her days. Especially when the world was full of arrogant jerks like that Toby who’d entered Serendipity earlier that day.

Building cookie cutter houses where my cows used to roam. Really! The thought raised her ire once again.

“Come on boys,” she called to the two dogs roaming the back yard. “Let’s eat and go to bed.”

She was tired. That must explain her irritability. A good night’s sleep is what I need.

A good night’s sleep is not what she got. And it wasn’t visions of sugar plums dancing in her head as she tossed and turned. Although, I suppose some girls may consider the blond hunk that infiltrated her dozing thoughts a sugar plum.

Starting Over – #3

TT_bannerWelcome to TUESDAY TALES.

Today’s snippet is the start of a new WIP, tentatively titled ‘Starting Over’.

Victoria moves to Oak Grove, a tiny town in north Texas, looking for a new beginning. From her quaint antique store on the town square, she encounters more drama than she ever expected. In the midst of getting to know her storekeeper neighbors and learning who she can and can’t trust, will she find the one thing she’s not looking for, true love? Stay tuned each week to find out.

This week’s prompt is: Summer.

Enjoy – and feel free to leave a comment. Click the link here to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more entertaining story snippets.


In between the few customers that wandered in during the afternoon, Victoria priced the dishes and added them to her burgeoning collection. That task out of the way, she allowed herself to sit and peruse the items from the trunk she’d just purchased. She sorted the small quilt pieces, most of the like pieces strung together on a thread. Just like my grandmother kept her quilt pieces together, she mused. She arranged the photographs in various piles. A very few had names and dates written on the back, their fading ink barely legible. She wished that more of the photographs had been documented in some fashion.

journal_Charlotte M CopelandVictoria was elated to discover an old leather bound journal hidden at the bottom. The sporadic dates began in 1903 and ended with a few random entries from the early 40’s. Charlotte M. Copeland. Victoria began reading her tale, fascinated with this woman from the past. How can she – or her relatives – have just left these in the attic of the house they sold?

She started sifting through the photographs, trying to find Charlotte’s name written on any of them. She glanced up and was startled to see the darkness enveloping the square, with the golden halos from the street lights piercing the night time. Goodness. Where had the time gone? A glance down to her watch revealed that she’d technically been closed for over two hours.

And not even an extra customer, thankful that I was open later than usual. Which was too bad. The few customers she did have that day didn’t even begin to cover what she’d paid out to the handsome stranger.

After locking the front door and turning out lights, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the back door. I guess it doesn’t matter I was here late, she muttered to herself. It’s not like anyone’s waiting for me at home. Except the menagerie of dogs and cats that would be irate because their dinner was late.

Turning the corner near home, her headlights reflected ghostly giants sitting in what used to be a twenty acre field. Bulldozers, bobcats, and water trucks sat scattered around the new housing tract that was in the early stages of development. Water and sewer lines were in the midst of being laid, giving the skeleton appearance of where new streets would follow.

OGS_longhorn bluebonnetsA frown settled across her face. So much for enjoying the pasture at the end of my street. I used to love seeing the bluebonnets and paintbrush scattered across the vista and watching the longhorns laze around in the summer shade of the oaks, she thought.

Now it’s going to be just another cookie cutter field of houses. More cars. More traffic. The glow of the headlights illuminated the developer’s sign, posted next to the mandated zoning change sign. ‘TL Burdett Developers’.

The vision of writing out a check to Toby L. Burdett earlier that day surfaced in her memory.

It’s got to be him. No wonder he has no interest in sentimental items – he’s too busy destroying the community in the name of progress.

By the time she reached her front door, her mild irritation had grown into a full blown fury. I hope to goodness that man never crosses my path again.

Starting Over – #2

TT_bannerWelcome to TUESDAY TALES.

Today’s snippet is the start of a new WIP, tentatively titled ‘Starting Over’.

Victoria moves to Oak Grove, a tiny town in north Texas, looking for a new beginning. From her quaint antique store on the town square, she encounters more drama than she ever expected. In the midst of getting to know her storekeeper neighbors and learning who she can and can’t trust, will she find the one thing she’s not looking for, true love? Stay tuned each week to find out.

This week’s prompt is: Sea.

Enjoy – and feel free to leave a comment. Click the link here to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more entertaining story snippets.


The jingling bell above the front door caught Victoria’s attention, interrupting her task of sorting out silverware patterns. A blond god stood in the doorway, haloed by the golden sunshine behind him. His image banished all thoughts of spoons and forks. Well, not all thoughts. Visions of spooning and forking quickly filled her head, but they didn’t have anything to do with the piles of silverware scattered around on the table.

“Hello,” the vision inquired. “Do you work here?”

Victoria momentarily forgot that she was a store keeper and here was a live, walk-in visitor. Where was her customer service? “I’m the owner.” She advanced and held out her hand. “I’m Victoria. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for today?”

When her extended hand was ignored, she dropped it to her side. Well! How rude. His golden image receded to a mere mortal, an ill-mannered one at that.

“I’m not looking to buy today. I’d like to sell some things. Are you buying?”

“It depends on what you’re offering.” Victoria tried to keep a clipped tone out of her voice. He was still a customer after all, even if he was brusque and obviously didn’t believe in the art of small talk.

Oak grove_old trunk“I have a box of old dishes and a trunk full of old things – mostly junk it looks like, but some old photos and letters, pieces of fabric, things like that.”

“I’d have to see the items to see if they’re anything I’d be interested in.”

“They’re in the car. I’ll go get them.” The visitor reached for the sunglasses perched on top of head and headed outside.

Victoria edged towards the front window, curious as to which vehicle he approached. He was unlocking a sapphire blue BMW Roaster parked directly in front of Serendipity. A soft sigh escaped her lips. The perfect car to showcase such a handsome man. Good thing I’m not in the market for any man or I’d be like a swooning teenager right now.

As he grabbed a dusty box from the trunk, his bulging forearms brought a flush of heat to Victoria’s face. She scurried back to the table filled with silverware, not wanting to be caught watching.

The tinkling bell gave her warning to compose herself.

“Here’s the dishes.” He sat the box on the floor next to Victoria’s well-worn sneakers.

She looked down at her feet. I would have had to dress for comfort this morning. I knew I should have dressed a little classier today. She kneeled down on the floor and folded the box edges back. “Oh! Franciscan Desert Rose! It’s a very …”

“I’ll go get the trunk.”

“ … popular pottery pattern, first produced in 1941,” she muttered to the retreating back. “Not that it looks like you care.”

oak grove_old trunk filledWhen he carried the old steamer trunk in, Victoria didn’t even care that he’d left mid-sentence. Seeing the vintage trunk, excitement bubbled up inside, even if it was marred by a tacky piece of duct tape. He opened the lid, hinges creaking the whole way, and Victoria could hardly contain herself. “Ohhh,” she gasped. She carefully sifted through the sea of treasures within. There were lots of cut out quilt pieces, all vintage calico fabrics, easily dating to the Depression era and possibly earlier. A few skeins of yarn looked handspun and precious. But the tattered box filled with photographs and letters was her favorite find.

She carefully sifted through the old tin types. “Did these belong to one of your relatives?”

“Oh good Lord no. I wouldn’t have any of this old junk around. I found them in the attic of a house I bought. What would you give me for all of it?”

“It depends on how old the dishware is. Although it was first produced in 1941, Franciscan put out this pottery design until 1962 when they sold their plant. In 1984 Wedgewood bought the pattern and moved production to England. Then, Johnson Brothers bought it and ran a limited 60th anniversary line in 2001. Let me take a closer look at what you have.”

The silverware on the table was pushed to one side as piece after piece found their way on the table. Dinner plates, dessert plates, a serving platter, cups and saucers. “These are definitely older pieces, not reproductions. They’re all in very good condition. The butter dish has a few nicks at the base, but they’re not terrible.”

Victoria reached for the pencil and pad she’d been making notes on earlier. Flipping the page over, she started making a list. “Six dinner plates, eight dessert plates, eight saucers, seven cups …” She jotted numbers beside each item on the list and tallied up a total. “I can give you three hundred and fifty dollars for the dishes.”

“Only three hundred and fifty dollars? They’ve got to be worth more than that.” He walked over to some similar plates displayed in a white distressed hutch in the corner. He picked one up. “Look. This single plate here is fourteen dollars.”

“Yes it is.” Victoria bit her lip in an attempt to remain calm. “But if I sell it for fourteen dollars, I can’t pay you fourteen dollars for it. I have to make some money on it too. I have a landlord to pay, utilities to pay, insurance to pay. I’m sure that as a businessman you can understand that.”

A look of understanding passed across his face. “Of course. I didn’t stop to think about that. How about the trunk?”

Victoria looked fondly at the leather carrier. “While this is personally my favorite, the items inside don’t bring much money. Pictures usually only go for a dollar, two tops. The fabric pieces, while fascinating, will probably only sell for maybe ten dollars at best. And the trunk itself is in pretty poor condition. I could go a hundred and fifty dollars for the trunk and everything inside.”

“That’s five hundred all together …” He paused, deep in thought.

Victoria noticed that when he was thinking so intently she liked the way his blue eyes softened with little crinkles on the sides. He wasn’t quite as foreboding or ultra in charge.

The transformation vanished and Mr. no-time-for-dallying-Businessman was back in place. “Deal. I’ll take five hundred for all of it.”

Victoria quickly made out a check, before he changed his mind. She wondered as she was writing it out – ‘Toby L. Burdett’ – why does that sound familiar?

Starting Over- #1

TT_bannerWelcome to TUESDAY TALES.

After completing Rosemary’s story last week, I was going to continue with the next ‘Posie’ in the group. But then … my flighty Gemini side kicked into high gear and urged me to try something new and outside of my comfort zone. Today’s snippet is the start of a new WIP, tentatively titled ‘Starting Over’.

Victoria moves to Oak Grove, a tiny town in north Texas, looking for a new beginning. From her quaint antique store on the town square, she encounters more drama than she ever expected. In the midst of getting to know her storekeeper neighbors and learning who she can and can’t trust, will she find the one thing she’s not looking for, true love? Stay tuned each week to find out.

This week’s prompt is: Ride.

Enjoy – and feel free to leave a comment. Click the link here to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more entertaining story snippets.



oak grove_iris depression glass

Yes, Tuesday Tales Iris, there is a glass pattern named Iris. (And it’s my favorite pattern also)

To all outward appearances, Oak Grove was a small, bucolic Texan town. When she moved there, Victoria didn’t realize how much drama and deceit she’d encounter on the courtyard square.

Victoria stood at the front window of Serendipity arranging a new display of Iris patterned Depression glass, one of her favorite designs. She stopped, holding the rare pitcher in hand, and gazed across the street to two fellow merchants standing near one another in an intense discussion. They probably didn’t think they were noticeable, hidden in the dappled shade of the oak trees lining the courthouse set in the middle of the square. They didn’t realize that the view from Victoria’s antique and collectible store had a front seat view of their secluded spot.

From Victoria’s position near her window it appeared that Hank, the owner of Hank’s BBQ Grill on the opposite side of the square, and Jacqueline, the owner of the trendy clothing store next door, were very close friends. The intimate gestures – the way they touched each other’s shoulders and the way they held their heads so close to one another as they spoke – caused Victoria to speculate. She wondered if Hank’s wife knew about this obvious interest in Jacqueline.

Now, she wondered if she’d made the right decision about running away to Oak Grove. But she couldn’t look back now. Every cent she owned had gone into this new business venture. She’d made all this effort to disappear and leave her old life behind, including the pilot and all of his lies. She had had to keep moving forward with her plan. Although, she had no intention to ever trust another man again.

She thought that a new start in a quiet, non-descript town was the perfect solution. She’d spent weeks driving through dusty little burgs set far off the main roads and highways. Every chance she got, she’d jump in the car for a ride through the countryside. She found towns she didn’t know existed. Some were mere blips on the scenery, while others spread out and occupied more space. A few had silly whimsical names, such as Rhome and Ponder. Others were a little larger, with the central part of town filling several blocks, such as Mineral Wells or Bowie.

Most towns showed some promise for a new start. Yet they all had something lacking. Not big enough. Too big. Too far away. No prospects for commerce. Only a farming community. Too close to the highway. Nothing available. Great space but too expensive. Too flat, too barren. No atmosphere.

Oak Grove_shady sidewalkAnd then she’d stumbled upon Oak Grove, nestled back in the country midway between Denton and Roanoke. It was close to Texas Motor Speedway, yet far enough away that the high traffic volumes shouldn’t impact the community. There was a small town square, with the common courthouse-in-the-middle configuration, encircled by small businesses on all four sides. Stands of post oaks and flowering crepe myrtles shaded the town, bringing relief from the intense Texas summertime heat.

The neighboring town to the east, Bluebonnet Hills, was filled with huge 6 and 7,000 square foot McMansions accented with driveways full of Expeditions, Lexus’ and Jaguars. The homes there screamed ‘I’m rich! Look at me!’ The few miles of meandering road between the two towns kept the ostentatious lifestyle out of arms reach, yet Bluebonnet Hills was close enough that its residents regularly showered their money like confetti upon the nearby communities.

The best part of the road trip on this particular day was the ‘For Sale’ sign hanging in the front window of Serendipity. All those years of haunting dusty bins at other antique and collectible stores could come in useful.

Within 30 days the papers were signed and the store including its lease and all the merchandise now belonged to Victoria.

A glimpse of Jacqueline striding across the street; her long dark tresses bouncing with each step, jolted Victoria back to the present. As Jacqueline passed by the front window, she jumped as she noticed Victoria standing there, a red flush spreading quickly up her neck and across her face.

A Pocket Full of Posies: Rosemary9

TT_bannerIt’s time for TUESDAY TALES! This week, we’re writing to the prompt ‘father’.

This segment wraps up the short story of Rosemary, one chapter in A Pocket Full of Posies. Next week we’ll start out with another lady, another posie in the pocket, as I add to this WIP.

Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great story snippets written to the weekly prompt.


Rosemary arrived home before the skies opened up and dropped a months’ worth of rain on the fields surrounding the shelter. Coco spent the whole evening either huddled in Rosemary’s arms or attached to her side like a shadow. The next few days Rosemary sloshed out to the pens, mud sucking at her feet every step of the way. She was thankful for the heavy duty rain boots she’d purchased on a whim, never dreaming that she’d get so much use out of them.

She worried that the mud would ruin the upcoming BBQ. Fortunately two weeks of warm, sunny weather followed the storm. By the morning of the fundraiser, the fields were dry and already beginning to show cracks. The trees and shrubs blanketing the property showed their thanks for the earlier rainfall by bursting into vivid green leaf. Queen’s Anne Lace blossomed along the roadside, billowing in the breeze as a welcoming entrance.

The morning of the BBQ began early for Rosemary and her friends. Nora and Steve arrived with a car load of musical instruments, extra chairs, food, drinks, bags of ice and boxes of raffle prizes. Lisa arrived shortly afterwards bearing foil wrapped trays of mouthwatering smoked brisket.

The crew stayed in motion all morning getting everything ready for the guests. Seating was set up. Food was arranged on long tables. Sodas and water bottles were placed in ice chests. Plates, napkins and cutlery were arranged. A side table attractively displayed all the door prizes that Nora and Rosemary had collected: gift baskets, gift certificates, books, t-shirts, key chains, bottles of wine, and specialty chocolates. The pens housing the shelter animals were clean and sparkling, ready for tours to show off the sweet faces looking for new homes.

Cars started arriving as the finishing touches were under way. One by one they came down the dirt road, parking in the large open field designated for parking. The crew moved into high gear and didn’t have a moment to stop, think or relax. Everyone was hard at work – feeding and corralling the crowd, giving tours of the facility, showing off the cats and dogs available for adoption, and selling raffle tickets.

After running all day and being pulled in a dozen directions, Rosemary stopped for a moment in the dappled shade of a grove of post oaks near the picnic area. Lisa joined her on the sidelines, enjoying a rare moment inactivity, listening to Steve’s mellow voice accompanying his acoustic guitar as the band captivated the attendees. “The brisket’s all gone. It’s a good thing I brought extra.”

Rosemary nodded. “It was delicious. You have me spoiled now for any other brisket. Everyone loved it. I saw several going back for seconds. And I think a few went back for thirds.”

“I knew I had to bring more than I originally planned. Nora told me that she sold all one hundred tickets. I think I’ve been smoking brisket all week.” Lisa pulled her long tresses back and held them on top of her head with a hand. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face. “I think my hair permanently smells like a mixture hickory, cherry and mesquite chips now.”

outdoor bandThe two surveyed the milling guests that spilled out around the picnic tables, over to the drink stand and those congregated in front of the band stand, toes tapping and bodies swaying.

“Oh, look.” Rosemary pointed to the stage, where their friend was stepping up. “Nora’s going to sing.”

Steve’s soft announcement followed her arrival on stage. “My lovely wife and her sweet voice is going to join us on this song. I think most of you know this one. From one of the Fathers of Rock and Roll, Chuck Berry.” The lead guitar began the early strums of a recognizable oldie-but-goodie, Johnny B. Goode, and the crowd burst into applause.

It was well after midnight before the attendees finally filtered out, leaving the fundraiser crew alone – exhausted and drooping, yet elated at the success.

Band members packed up guitars, drums, amplifiers, and the miscellaneous gear that follows them from event to event. Rosemary, Nora, and Lisa wandered the grounds, picking up the last bits of trash. Rosemary couldn’t keep from grinning. “Did you see the sign-up sheet for the work day next week? Almost twenty people signed up to come help. And four ladies approached me about volunteering a few hours every week. They said they’d clean pens, feed, walk dogs and spend some social time with the cats.”

“Awesome!” Lisa clapped her hands. “And you placed some animals tonight, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes! After the tour, several people fell in love and wanted to adopt today. Three cats and two dogs went to new loving homes.”

Nora sidled up to Rosemary and slipped a fat, bulky envelope in her hands. “Here’s the money from the meal tickets and from the raffle prizes. This should buy the rest of the fencing materials you need. There should be enough left over for a lot of meals and medicines for the furry ones.”

Rosemary looked down at the bulging envelope she held and burst into tears. Before she knew it, Nora and Lisa embraced her in a group hug, silent tears slipping down their cheeks too.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Rosemary choked out between sobs.

Nora patted her friends back. “It’s not just for you. It’s for the animals too – the ones without a voice or a vote. We’re all in this together. We’re all connected – whether we walk on two legs or on four. We can’t take care of every stray animal in this world. But we can help the ones in our backyards. One by one. If we all do what we each can, together we can help the ones that need it.”

She held an imaginary glass high above her head. “Here’s to many more furry lives saved by Fur Baby Haven … and more years of friendship, love and caring.”

Another hug sealed Nora’s words as a pact between the three friends, joined together in their mission. They’d discovered that the tribulations life threw at them – storms, county inspectors, lack of funds – nothing could stand in their way. The echoing barks from the kennels behind them confirmed their words, as if the pups were joining in the celebration.

A Pocket Full of Posies: Rosemary8

TT_bannerWelcome to TUESDAY TALES, a diverse group of many genres writing to a weekly prompt.
This week is a picture prompt. 300 words only, so the reads will be quick.
Check out the stories and see what the different writers come up with, using this stormy picture.

Return to TUESDAY TALES for the rest of the tales.


TT_stormy skies

Rosemary grinned liked a Cheshire Cat all the way back to the parking lot, a 60-day extension clutched firmly in hand. Take that Clyde! Going to the top paid off. It was worth sitting in the rigid plastic chair for hours, waiting for the County Supervisor to have time to see her. At first, seeing his piercing glare, she doubted she’d see success.

Once she started laying gout the plans – the fundraisers ahead, the work days scheduled, the marking plan to implement, and photos of the site, including the precious, furry faces – he’d relented.

“I don’t see any reason to deny this request. Your plan to comply with bringing the violations up to code is well thought out. There aren’t any prior problems or concerns. I’m confident that you will meet the deadline and will pass the inspection satisfactorily.”

A quick signature on the bottom of the form and she out of there.

With this task completed, her mind switched gears and began working through the next steps for the BBQ fundraiser.

Miles passed. She followed the roads home by rote, barely noticing where she was.

A flash of light in front of her, followed by a cracking boom, caught her attention. Thoughts of seating, food and beverages fled her mind. Ominous gray skies hovered over the route towards the shelter and filled her with dread.

Looks like one of my Daddy’s Arkansas gully washers, she muttered. Or toad stranglers as Grandpa used to call them. She pressed harder on the gas pedal urging the minivan to go faster.

I have to get home and bring Coco inside before this hits. The coffee colored poodle didn’t handle storms well. She’d be a quivering mass huddled in the corner. Rosemary couldn’t let the little thing suffer through the tempest alone.

A Pocket Full of Posies: Rosemary7

TT_bannerWelcome to TUESDAY TALES, where a group of diverse authors entertain you with story snippets.  This week, we’re writing to the prompt ‘bottom’.

In this WIP, Rosemary is struggling to keep a small independent animal shelter going. Her friends brainstormed some fundraising ideas with her and she’s optimistic about the future. Now to appease the County and its code requests.

Return to TUESDAY TALES for more fun stories.


TT_code requirementsAs the dust from the departing car settled, Rosemary headed inside feeling more peaceful than she’d felt for several weeks. She wished she had the time, money and resources to help all of the abandoned and homeless dogs and cats. It was a larger job than she alone was capable of. All she could do was help the few she ran across in her own little corner of the world. And even that minor aide had looked like it was reaching the endpoint. Until now. Her friends stepped in and offered a ray of hope. Tomorrow she’d deal with Clyde, and she’d do it without feeling that a shadow of doom hung over her head.

First thing the next morning it was apparent that Clyde hadn’t gotten the memo about cooperating with Rosemary’s request. He didn’t share her optimism that all was going to be okay now.

“No can do,” was his repeated answer. “Nope. No extension. The inspection will be as scheduled and if you’re not in compliance we will lock the gates.”

“Who is your immediate superior? I want their name.” Rosemary meant business and she’d follow any chain of command necessary to get an answer that was workable. “You’re just the bottom rung there and I refuse to deal with you anymore. I want your supervisor’s name.”

“I’m the inspector assigned to this segment of the County. I’m the one you have to work with.”

The man’s arrogant and obstinate attitude infuriated Rosemary. It was a good thing she couldn’t reach through the phone. She’d probably slap the jerk. “Well, we’ll see about that,” she responded. “You’ve been a bureaucrat too long and that’s the only way you know how to think. Well, I’m not one and I know how to look at situations with an open mind, especially when there’s a solution available. I’m not going to keel over and quiver in fear about your demands. This is my first request for an extension and it’s a reasonable one. There is a plan in place to comply with all the code requirements. But, since you’re unwilling to even discuss the issue, I’ll do what I have to do on my end.”

Click. At that moment Rosemary wished she were on an old fashioned land line instead of a cell phone. It was much more satisfying to hang up on someone when you could slam the receiver down with a bang. The silent fingertip on ‘end’ just didn’t have the same oomph.

The battle with Clyde had escalated. The difference now was that she felt more powerful. She wasn’t overwhelmed with demands that she couldn’t fulfill. The hopeless feeling that settled around her as a fog for the past few weeks dissipated. In its place was a calm feeling of strength and resolve.

She flipped open her laptop. It took several attempts to navigate the County website until she found the name she needed. Mr. County Supervisor, watch out. Here I come. She leaned back and surveyed her desk littered with mounds of scribbled notes and ideas from the night before. I need to organize these into a coherent plan if I’m off to do battle with the County. But first, my morning rounds of the pens. Then I’ll come back and work on my plan of attack.

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