Sometimes – I don’t know why – I’m filled with such a strong feeling of impending doom… *grins* and no, I’m not paranoid. What makes these various doom-filled feelings so hard to deal with, is I am one who has a fairly strong psychic connection to those I care about. I try to analyze these feelings, sort them out, try to find out if they’re an intuitive feeling coming in, or possibly an over-reactive imagination (which is a definate plus for a writer!) or simply, nothing.

What makes it even more difficult… I had the doom-filled feeling, the day my daughter was hit by a car… I had it when my ex-louse suffered his first two heart attacks… I even had it for the three weeks before Lady’s death. There are other ocassions, I’m sure, just I can’t recall them at the moment.

Damn pain. A study found (by the Mayo Clinic) that those who suffer with long-term Chronic Pain — and I believe they called 3 years long-term (recall please, I’ve been living with Chronic Pain for 9 years!) — suffer from memory loss, similar to Alheizmer’s victims. It’s annoying, and downright embarrassing, when I forget a simple everyday word, or mistakenly use another word for what I mean. *smiles* My kids joke about senility… but they know how serious this is. Fortunately, we all have the same… hmmm… dire? humor!

clear as mud

K, I gave more info, but the reasoning behind my writer’s block – and the very reason for this blog – is still as clear as mud, right? Right. Well, that’s a bit of a painful story to share, although I do put it into words a bit here.
Hmm, it’s beginning to look like there’s a method to my scattered diatribe! I was writing various pieces of fiction, regularly, as well as adding to a novel I was working on. The novel, btw, is gone. Through no fault of my own, mind you. I mean, I didn’t just look at it one day and say blech! and delete it. Oh no… I had a hard drive burn out, followed by a motherboard burn out, followed by my OWN home being burned to the ground… hence, no novel. I had had “hard copies” of course, as well as floppy’s of the story – just in case I ever lost what was on my ‘puter. Well, the fire destroyed those, obviously.
But I digress, I believe… let’s briefly go back to 2 years ago. My very best friend in all the world, my closest confidant and allie for the previous 11 years, was my dog Lady. Her AKC name was Sterling’s Lovely Lady, and she was the foundation to my breeding program; dam of CH. Sterling’s Lovely Odds and several Certified Hearing Dogs for the Deaf; a therapy dog, accompanying me to work for pet therapy visits; self-taught service dog, helping me as my physical condition worsened.

When my ex-louse had his first heart attack, it was Lady who tried to bolster my spirits… when the ex-louse resumed his former mental and emotional abuse to my kids and myself, it was Lady who tried to protect us – even though she loved him in a way, or perhaps she felt sorry for him – as a good therapy dog sometimes does. She knew my every secret, and guarded them well… there is no one on this Earth, that comes close to knowing me, as well as Lady did.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Lady’s mate, Champ, died very suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack, on June1, 1998. Lady & I both mourned this loss, tremendously. Champ was a little whirlwind, a windup toy of a dog, with a heart as big as a Great Dane. Lady never bounced back from this loss. Now, she was acting old. Sure, at 10 she was a senior citizen – but – Shelties oft live to be 14-15, with some living till they’re 18. I thought I had years with both dogs, yet. Champ was only 9 when he crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Sorry… I’m crying… just visited them once again at the Petloss site…
About a week after we lost Champ, I noticed a lump above Lady’s left eye. It was diagnosed as a brain tumor. One vet felt she was suffering, hanging onto life simply to be near me. Me! Another vet felt she might not be suffering yet, but would be soon. The lump was roughly the size of a huge golfball, or a small tennis ball. She had given me so much, her entire life… I couldn’t allow her to suffer. So on June 26, 1998, I sent her across the Bridge. I held her close as the drug began working… she fought it long enough to turn her head, and try to give my hand one last kiss… she didn’t quite make it, the drug is very fast acting to help fend off any pain.
To say a part of me died that day, is by no means an exaggeration. I miss her as much today, as the day I sent her across the Bridge.
I haven’t written a decent piece, since….


Hmm, of course, I know who I’m talking about, and those closest to me do, as well… but for those of you who just happen upon this Blog, perhaps I should lay the background for you a bit.
Okay, I’m classified, titled, labeled (however you want to view it) as disabled. This stems from a work-related injury. Once upon a time, I worked with the adult mentally retarded, as a State of Ohio employee. My title then was a Therapeutic Program Worker. Basically a fancy name for aide!
Briefly, one of the male residents attacked me, leaving me with permanent nerve damage to my neck, right arm/shoulder and back, as well as a fractured right wrist, bite wounds, scrapes, bruises and minor lacerations. That started my life with Chronic Pain, which I’ve lived with for 9 years now. I touch on it briefly,  here.
As I had been published for some of my nonfiction work previously, and had no desire to simply sit around feeling sorry for myself, I launched myself into a writing correspondence course, concentrating on fiction. My chosen genre’s are horror and romance. I think they go hand in hand *grins*
Now, as far as my fiction is concerned, most who’ve read it tell me they like it, they’d buy a magazine for it, etc., etc., etc. But no magazines have purchased my stuff yet. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some interesting nibbles – but no buyers.

Back to who Decker is… before I was tossed to the invisible monster, I was a dog breeder and handler. I bred the Shetland Sheepdog – Shelties for short. My son was interested in showing an Afghan Hound. Decker is his – now retired – Afghan Hound.


Phew, still getting ready for today’s trip! Granted, that might not sound like much to some, but packing, caring for da critters, turning off all email (I’m on 17 lists, after all! *grins*) can be bothersome to anyone, let alone when I’m having a mediocre to bad day to start with. I’m finding this quite troublesome… for the last week, when I get up, I’m very shaky and somewhat weak; my equlibrium is off a bit, as well. Which necessitates my leaning on Decker for support, as well as any walls!


Okay, I freaked too soon *smiles* I just needed to add another post for the previous one to show up. I have everything bookmarked, but plan on changing the template to something more appealing to me – later. My hair is still wet from my shower, so it feels comfortable here right now… the weather has been balmy, almost muggy, here in GA – and the apartment has been at least 10-15 degrees hotter then it ’tis outside. I probably won’t add anything to this for a week or so… I’m leaving to go see my baby, back in IN, tomorrow! Am I excited, or what? I haven’t seen here for almost a year, since I made my previous (stupid!) move to CT. More on that later, I’m sure… *grins* I have a TON of rants on that sorry time period!


I’ll be in the car, or in bed, in the shower — someplace indisposed for writing, when an inkling of an idea will begin to nibble at me… I’ll start the usual mental “what ifs” and start following where it leads. Sometimes, something in it will really spark and I’ll begine to grow excited — this is the start of a really, really good plot! — and I can’t wait to get to my keyboard or a pen and paper…. As soon as a means for placing that terrific idea is available – poof! — it’s gone, never to be resurrected, no matter how much I worry and tease my brain to bring it back… *sighs* Writer’s block is no fun…


Okay, I did exactly what I shouldn’t have done, about 45 minutes ago. I created my Blogger, wrote something stupid, then out of sheer frustration, deleted it. Wrong, wrong, wrong! *sighs* I’ve considered how many really good stories I’ve killed, simply because my mood was wrong, or I was unhappy about a few words, or simply didn’t like the direction it was going, blah, blah, blah! Never, ever, EVER totally destroy a work… ya never know, tomorrow it may be a best seller. *sighs* When will I ever learn that?!?